THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE 
SILENT   CONFLICT 


BOSTON 

ROXBURGH  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 
INC. 


Copyrighted,  1916 
By  Charles  Carroll  Swafford 


Att  rights  reserved 


ps 

3537 


TO 

THE  JOINT  INTERESTS  OF  CAPITAL  AND  LABOR, 

THIS  BOOK  IS  PATRIOTICALLY 

INSCRIBED 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  ANOTHER  CUT  IN  WAGES    .  i 

II  SIGNS  OF  DISCONTENT     .      .  14 

III  STRIKE  THREATENED  IN  THE 

MOTHER  LODE    ...  23 

IV  THE  DEVIL'S  MINIONS  .      .  42 

V  STRENGTH  IN  COUNCIL    .      .  57 

VI  PENT  FIRES     .      ."    .      .      .  85 

VII  SERVICE  AND  SHAME       .  96 

VIII  GIRDING  THE  ARMOR       .  no 

IX  SATAN  CHALLENGED  .      .      .  121 

X  DEATH  AND  DECEPTION       ,  138 

XI  CUPID  REVEALS  HIMSELF     .  149 

XII  STICKING  TO  PRINCIPLES      .  160 

XIII  CLUTCHES  OF  THE  LAW    (   .  171 

XIV  IN  THE  TOILS  OF  THE  TEMPTER  184 
XV  WARNED  NOT  ALWAYS  FORE 
ARMED     ;  191 

XVI  SPIKING  THE  ENEMY'S  GUNS  207 

XVII  EVIDENCE  FOR  THE  DEFENSE  218 

XVIII  WITH  FEAR  AND  TREMBLING  •  233 

XIX  CHASING  A  PHANTOM      .      .  249 

XX  A  SOUND  OF  REVELRY    .      .  262 

XXI  WHERE  HELL  REIGNS     .      .  280 

XXII  A  STORY  WITHIN  A  STORY  .  294 

XXIII  SOLVING  A  GREAT  MYSTERY  306 

XXIV  RUNNING  THE  GANTLET.      .  320 

XXV  THE  ARCH-ENEMY  DETHRONED  335 


THE  MAN  UNDER  THE  STONE 

When  I  see  a  workingman  with  mouths  to  feed, 
Up,  day  after  day,  in  the  dark  before  the  dawn, 
And  coming  home,  night  after  night,  thro' 

the  dark, 

Swinging  forward  like  some  fierce,  silent  animal, 
I  see  a  man  doomed  to  roll  a  huge  stone  up  an 

endless  steep. 

He  strains  it  onward  inch  by  inch, 
Crouched  always  in  the  shadow  of  the  rock; — 
See    where    he    crouches    twisted,    cramped, 
misshapen! 

He  lifts  for  their  life! 
The  veins  knot  and  darken — 
Blood  surges  into  his  face — 
Now  he  loses — now  he  wins — 
Now  he  loses — loses — (God  of  my  soul!) 
He  digs  his  feet  into  the  earth — 
There's  a  moment  of  terrified  effort — 
It  stirs — it  moves. 
The  silent  struggle  goes  on  and  on 
Like  two  contending  in  a  dream. 

— Charles  Edwin  Markham. 
(By    permission.) 


PRECURSORY 

In  the  dedicating  of  this  book  the  author 
has  recognized  a  peculiar  phase  of  character 
in  the  American  people;  it  is  this: — The 
capacity  of  our  people  for  self-government 
is  strangely  great,  even  to  awaking  in  a  care 
ful  observer  a  feeling  of  amazement  and  a 
sense  of  its  deep-seated  and  stable  nature. 
9o  great  is  this  capacity  and  so  stable  is  its 
nature,  that  we  insensibly  pass  from  one 
phase  of  social  life  to  another  without  the 
dire  accompaniment  of  violence  and  blood 
shed,  so  common  in  great  revolutions,  social 
or  industrial. 

And  yet  we  are  aware  that  revolution — 
perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  say,  evolution — 
is  silently  going  on  all  about  us.  We  have 
grown  from  a  small  cluster  of  unconfederated 
colonies  to  a  mighty  commonwealth;  from  a 
narrow,  circumscribed  territory  to  an  ex 
panding  national  domain;  from  a  few  scattered 
towns  with  diverse  and  oft  conflicting  com 
mercial  interests,  to  a  nation  of  cities  with 
unified  interests  and  great  common  purpose. 

Self-government — the  experiment  of  the 
Nineteenth  Century,  successfully  conducted — 


PRECURSORY 

has  made  this  evolution  possible  and  has 
drawn  to  itself  seeming  incongruous  elements 
and  has  changed  these  into  likeness  unto 
itself,  while  in  turn  it  has  itself  been  modi 
fied, — improved  and  strengthened  by  all  types, 
classes,  peoples  of  apparent  heterogeneous 
ideas. 

Out  of  conflicting  isms — Socialism,  Nihilism, 
Anarchism,  et  cetera, — has  arisen  a  unique, 
powerful  and  aggressive  Americanism,  that 
bids  fair  to  rule  in  the  councils  of  the  nations 
and  carry  the  blessings  of  peace  and  good 
will  to  the  remotest  bounds  of  its  influence. 

In  the  hope  that  a  higher  Socialism  may 
finally  triumph  in  the  work  of  lifting  up  the 
ever  conflicting  industrial  orders,  this  story 
is  written  as  a  feeble  effort  in  the  great  cause, 
the  good  of  humanity. 

The  Author. 


Ill  fares  the  land,  to  hastening  ills  a  prey, 
Where  wealth  accumulates,  and  men  decay: 
Princes  and  lords  may  flourish,  or  may  fade; — 
A  breath  can  make  them,  as  a  breath  has  made; — 
But  a  bold  peasantry,  their  country's  pride, 
When  once  destroyed,  can  never  be  supplied. 

—Goldsmith's  "The  Deserted  Village." 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 


CHAPTER  I 

ANOTHER  CUT  IN  WAGES 

"I  had  rather  coin  my  heart, 

"And  drop  my  blood  for  drachmas,  than  to  wring 
"From  the  hard  hands  of  peasants  their  vile  trash 
"By  any  indirection." 

— Shakespeare's  "Julius  Caesar" 

"It'll  come  to  that,  is  my  say." 

The  speaker  was  one  of  a  knot  of  sooty 
looking  men  that  stood  in  front  of  a  mean 
hut  in  the  suburbs  of  Carbon  Vale,  that  part 
which  was  given  over  to  the  cabins  of  the 
miners.  The  deep  looks  upon  the  coal- 
begrimed  faces  of  these  half  dozen  men  be 
tokened  that  a  discussion  of  more  than  usual 
significance  had  held  the  attention  of  every 
one  to  the  meaning  gestures  and  spirited 
talk  of  this  speaker. 

1 


2  THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

He  was  a  tall,  broad-shouldered  man, 
slightly  bent,  but  whose  every  movement 
and  general  carriage  betrayed  a  great  re 
serve  of  both  physical  and  mental  force. 
Under  his  cap,  smooth  and  shining  from 
much  wear,  could  be  seen  an  expression  of 
determined  purpose,  and  a  firmness  of  look 
which  held  all  the  others  in  the  group  silent, 
as  the  words  which  had  last  fallen  from  his 
lips  seemed  to  put  all  further  talk  at  an  end 
and  he  pronounced  the  conclusion  to  a  log 
ical  premise  that  needed  no  further  debate. 
At  the  close  of  the  declaration  he  waved 
his  great  muscular  arm  with  a  final  swing 
as  much  as  to  say,  that  settles  it,  and  taking 
up  a  dinner  kettle,  such  as  his  companions 
also  carried,  swung  forward  with  a  firm  and 
determined  stride,  leaving  his  companions 
to  ruminate  on  the  matter  just  settled  in  such 
summary  fashion. 

"Luke  has  the  right  of  it,  I'm  thinkin'," 
said  one. 

"Ay,  ay,  the  lad  will  be  heard  from  some 
day,"  put  in  a  companion. 

"And  it's  myself  that  is  thinkin'  that  a 
man  should  be  ready  to  foller  when  he  makes 
up  his  mind  to  lead  us,  for  that  he'll  do,  too, 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT  3 

my  lads,  or  my  name's  not  Worry  Watson." 
This  third  speaker  was  a  man  of  perhaps 
fifty  years  though  he  looked  sixty,  and  pos 
sessed  few  charms  of  person  to  recommend 
him.  His  stooped  person  and  unkempt  ap 
pearance  indicated  that  toil  and  self-neglect 
had  alike  contributed  toward  marring  what 
otherwise  might  have  been  a  manly  frame, 
while  the  smudging  of  the  coal  mine  in  which 
he  plied  his  daily  toil  added  further  to  mask 
his  features  from  close  scrutiny. 

"You  may  be  sure  Luke  will  find  plenty 
to  follow  his  lead;  and  they'll  not  be  likely 
to  miss  Worry  Watson  either,  if  he  happens 
not  to  be  on  hand  when  the  pinch  comes," 
rejoined  a  former  speaker  with  an  insinuating 
nodding  of  his  head;  and  he  moved  slowly 
away,  swinging  his  dinner  pail  in  time  to 
his  steps. 

The  man  known  as  Worry  Watson  waited 
for  no  further  comment  but  at  once  departed 
in  another  direction;  the  others  of  the  group 
also  separated  after  waving  good-night  to 
their  fellow  toilers,  and  each  struck  out  for 
his  own  humble  abode. 

Worry  had  not  gone  many  rods  ere  he  halted, 
shook  his  clenched  fist  toward  the  last  speaker, 


4  THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

and  then  made  his  way  straight  to  a  drink 
ing  house  that  lay  a  short  distance  from  him. 
Here  he  entered,  and  after  taking  a  couple 
of  glasses  of  strong  liquor,  emerged  upon 
his  homeward  way.  This  home  lay  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  miner's  settlements,  a  low, 
wretched  looking  hut,  the  meanest  of  its 
kind,  consisting  of  one  room,  a  part  of  which 
was  divided  from  the  rest  by  a  partition  com 
posed  of  boards  and  old  pieces  of  cloth.  This 
place — it  would  be  difficult  to  conceive  it 
a  home — Worry  entered  in  a  noisy,  brusque 
manner,  threw  his  kettle  upon  the  floor 
recklessly,  seated  himself  on  the  one  chair 
that  the  room  contained,  and,  squaring  him 
self  to  the  rough  boards  before  him  called 
loudly,  rudely: 

"Rissy,  Rissy." 

No  answer  coming  he  began  musing  to- 
himself: 

"I  wonder  where  the  gurl  has  gone  ter  now. 
Off  ter  some  of  the  neighbors,  I  reckon; 
nursin'  some  of  their  brats,  or  doin'  the  work 
for  others  of  their  lazy  mammies,  who  pertend 
to  be  sick,  when  the  Lord  knows,  they're 
as  capable  of  doin'  a  day's  work  as  any  of 
'em." 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT  5 

"Rissy! — Riss,  if  yer  don't  put  in  an  ap 
pearance  mighty  quick  it's  I'll  be  goin'  back 
to  the  gin  mill  agin',  for  I'll  be  hanged  if 
I'm  goin'  to  die  of  hunger  for  the  like  of 
ye!  Rissy,  Rissy!" 

"Here,  father,"  answered  the  clear,  ringing 
voice  of  a  girl,  as  she  entered  the  room. 

"Where  have  ye  been,  gurl?  Haven't  I 
been  callin'  for  you  for  a  half-hour,  and 
ain't  I  as  hungry  as  a  wolf  besides?  Tell 
me,  gurl,  where  have  yer  been,  and  what 
doin'  fer  I  insist  that  ye  give  an  account 
of  yoursel'?" 

"Yes,  father;  allow  me  to  busy  myself 
with  getting  your  supper,  which  I  ought  to 
have  had  all  ready  for  you; — then  I  will  tell 
you  all  about  what  I  have  been  doing;  I  know 
you  will  not  be  finding  fault  with  me  then." 

"Then  I'll  be  bound  you've  been  tendin' 
youngsters  for  some  of  these  lazy  mothers; 
or  runnin'  errands  fer  some  other  complainin' 
huzzy.  Ain't  I  right,  gurl?" 

"No,  father;  but  first  allow  me  to  put 
your  supper  out  for  you,  and  then  I  promise 
to  give  a  true  account  of  myself." 

"That  I  will,  Rissy,"  said  the  man,  im 
patiently,  "fer  my  appetite  is  keen,  I  tell  ye. 


6  THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

And  as  to  a  true  account,  gurl,"  he  con 
tinued  in  a  more  kindly  tone,  "I  know  it  will 
be  a  true  account,  for  you  are  like  your  own 
mother  in  that;  a  better,  or  more  truth- 
lovin'  woman  never  lived,  and  you  are  like 
her,  Rissy,"  and  he  meditatively  drummed 
upon  the  table  before  him. 

"How  I  wish  I  could  have  known  my  mother, 
too,  father,"  said  the  girl,  placing  a  lighted 
candle  upon  the  shelf  above  him  and  pro 
ceeding  to  stir  the  dull  coals  on  the  hearth 
beside  which  stood  a  kettle  containing  food 
in  the  process  of  cooking. 

"Ay,  gurl,  she  was  good,  an'  clever,  an' 
truthful  was  your  mother;  but  it's  now  more'n 
sixteen  year  since  we  stood  together,  you 
and  me,  and  looked  for  the  last  time  upon 
her  face;  you  were  scarcely  two  years  old 
then,  Rissy,  and  now  you  are  almost  a  woman. 
How  the  time  passes  and  how  the  changes 
come.  Then  my  toil  was  not  so  hard;  I 
did  not  yet  know  what  it  meant  to  dig  coal 
from  the  earth,  far  from  the  light  o'  the  sun, 
and  bend  an'  stoop,  an'  work,  an'  only  to 
get  a  bare  livin'  at  that. — Luke  Darrell 
says,  these  things  will  have  to  change,  and 
that  these  rich  companies  '11  have  to  divide 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT  7 

their  money  with  us  fellers  that  dig  fer  'em. 
And  there  are  them  as  believe  what  Luke 
says,  but  it's  gettin'  harder  an'  harder  every 
day.  Why," — and  the  speaker  seemed  to 
forget  that  his  only  audience  was  a  young 
maiden  in  her  teens — "the  company  has 
posted  a  notice  that  wages  will  be  cut  ten 
per  cent  on  the  first,  and  the  men  are  growlin' 
an'  threatenin';  I  really  fear  that  there's 
goin'  to  be  trouble.  Now  if  these  Company 
fellers  cut  wages,  I  don't  see  who's  goin'  to 
help  hisself;  they  allus  talk  loud  enough; 
but  this  time  Luke  has  had  his  say,  and  I'm 
thinkin'  that  when  such  as  Luke  opens  his 
head,  it  means  somethin',  that's  sure.  Luke 
says  we  must  all  stand  together  and  tell  the 
Company  we  can't  allow  this  last  cut;  he 
says  wages  is  too  low  now  and  that  the  Com 
pany  ought  ter  raise  'em  instead.  Yes,  I 
say  Luke's  right;  and  we  will  all  have  to 
stand  together,  but  not  yet;  I  know  it's  hard 
to  be  ground  down  the  way  we  are  bein' 
ground,  but  what's  the  good  o'  holdin'  out 
agin  the  Company  when  they  can  do  as  they 
please.  I  recollect  what  come  of  resistin' 
three  years  ago;  the  miners  all  struck  and 
every  one  lost  his  wages  that  was  owin'  from 


8  THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

the  Company,  and  there  we  were  idle  a  whole 
month  and  some  of  'em  starvin',  and  in 
the  end  we  went  back  at  the  cut  rate. 
That's  just  what'll  come  of  it  again; — no, 
we  don't  want  to  all  stand  together;  Worry 
Watson  knows  on  which  side  his  bread  is 
buttered;  I'll  be  for  the  Company — and  then 
they'll  make  me  a  boss  of  a  gang,"  he  mused 
to  himself  only  half  aloud,  nodding  his  head 
in  pleasant  anticipation  of  earning  promo 
tion  by  deserting  his  fellow  toilers  in  their 
effort  to  stand  out  against  the  Company's 
oppression. 

The  girl's  ears  had  been  only  passively 
attentive  to  the  father's  half  narrative,  half 
soliloquy;  but  at  the  last  words  she  started 
perceptibly  and  turned  her  look  a  moment 
steadfast  upon  him,  then  resumed  her  rapid 
preparations  for  the  simple  evening  meal. 
She  went  about  her  work  thoughtfully  for  a 
time;  when  she  approached  the  table  to  place 
the  food  before  her  father  she  again  enquir 
ingly  scanned  his  face,  which  seemed  full 
of  thought,  but  she  said  nothing,  yet  it  was 
clear  that  questioning  thoughts  rose  near 
to  her  lips  several  times;  still  she  did  not 
speak  until  she  said,  "Father,  the  supper 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT  9 

is  ready,"  and  then,  taking  her  place  on  a 
bench  opposite  to  the  man,  proceeded  to 
serve  to  him  black  coffee  from  an  earthen  urn. 

The  father  seemed  to  recollect  himself, 
and  rousing  from  his  musings  began  to  satisfy 
the  cravings  of  hunger.  Thus  the  two  sat 
for  some  minutes,  the  man  eating  hungrily, 
but  the  girl  appeared  to  have  no  appetite 
for  the  victuals  before  her;  her  hands  lay 
folded  upon  her  lap,  and  her  full  thoughtful 
face  betrayed  a  stirring  of  the  depths  of 
feeling  within. 

Clarissa  Watson  perhaps  resembled  her 
mother  in  personal  charms  as  well  as  in  those 
excellent  virtues  of  goodness  and  truth  attri 
buted  to  her  by  her  father.  She  was  beauti 
ful  in  form  and  feature;  tall  and  erect,  her 
pose  and  carriage  were  graceful;  a  face  moulded 
in  full  outlines  and  set  with  features  that 
blended  in  perfect  harmony;  an  intellectual 
forehead,  a  mouth  and  chin  that  told  of 
firmness,  eyes  that  spoke  strongly  of  fear 
lessness  and  tenderness;  a  well-shapen  nose 
and  ears,  and  a  complexion  soft  and  roseate; 
while  over  all  rested  a  wealth  of  darkest 
brown  hair,  neatly  combed  from  temples 
that  were  full  and  fair.  She  was  indeed  a 


10          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

lovely  picture  to  look  upon,  and,  as  she  sat 
on  this  evening  in  the  wretched  hut  of  the 
Pennsylvania  coal  miner,  offered  a  strange 
contrast  to  her  surroundings  and  a  still  more 
striking  unlikeness  to  the  being  opposite, 
whom  she  called  "Father." 

Although  her  life  had  been  spent  among 
the  scenes  common  to  a  Pennsylvania  mining 
community  her  manners  had  been  but  little 
shaped  by  her  environment;  all  that  schools 
and  contact  with  people  of  better  advantages 
could  secure  in  that  uncultured  settlement, 
seemed  to  influence  and  grace  her  life.  There 
was  that  in  her  person  and  mind  that  indi 
cated  a  birth  of  noble  origin;  at  least  it  could 
not  be  that  both  parents  possessed  traits 
of  character  like  that  of  the  father,  as  we 
have  seen  him;  plainly,  the  mother  must 
have  given  to  her  child  the  comeliness  of 
form  and  feature,  and  was  equally  responsible 
for  the  gifts  of  quick  intelligence  and  integrity 
of  feeling  which  so  apparently  belonged  to  her. 

The  meal  continu-ed  some  minutes  in  si 
lence,  the  man  engaged  in  appeasing  his  ap 
petite,  the  girl  engrossed  with  her  thoughts 
and  calmly  awaiting  the  completion  of  the 
plain  repast. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          11 

At  last  Worry  Watson  pushed  back  from 
the  table  and,  going  over  to  his  daughter's 
side,  gently  placed  his  hand  upon  her  head. 
"Rissy,  I'm  goin'  out  a  bit;  d'ye  mind,  gurl? 
I  promise,  I'll  not  be  long,  but  it's  wantin' 
to  see  Larry  Simpson  I  am,  and  I'll  be  home 
in  the  shortest  time." 

"Can  you  not  stay  a  few  moments,  father, 
while  I  tell  you  where  I  have  been,  and  why 
I  caused  you  such  anxiety?" 

"Well,  child,  what  was  it?  I  am  well 
sure  it  was  nothing  you  were  doin'  that  would 
cause  me  much  alarm.  Where  were  you, 
Rissy?" 

"Father,  I  have  been  helping  Dr.  Acton, 
and  I  should  like  to  go  back  to  the  cottage 
where  he  is  now  watching  beside  the  bed 
of  his  patient,  if  you  do  not  mind;  you  are 
going  out  to  see  Simpson,  and  if  I  am  home  in 
an  hour,  it  will  probably  be  before  you  re 
turn." 

"But,  Rissy,  what  have  you  to  do  with 
the  young  doctor's  patients?  What  could 
you  do  in  this  case,  and  how  can  you  help 
the  doctor  now?" 

"The  man  whom  Dr.  Acton  is  attending 
was  severely  hurt  by  a  breaking  of  a  part 


12          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

of  the  machinery  in  the  East  shaft  of  the 
Black  Diamond  mine,  and  was  taken  from 
beneath  a  heap  of  chains  and  shafting  with 
but  little  chance  of  life  left.  The  doctor 
was  compelled  to  remove  the  right  arm  of 
the  poor  fellow,  and  I  stood  by  and  helped 
all  I  could;  for  the  doctor  from  the  new 
Company's  settlement  was  also  called  in 
to  aid  in  administering  chloroform.  The 
doctor  told  me,  when  I  asked  to  leave  at 
the  blowing  of  the  whistles,  that  he  should 
be  so  glad  if  I  would  just  come  in  again  in 
an  hour  or  so." 

And  Clarissa  looked  so  beseechingly  at 
her  father  as  she  spoke  these  words. 

"Well,  well,  child,"  said  the  father  with 
unmasked  tenderness,  "if  you  wish  it  so 
much,  you  may  go;  and  perhaps  I  may  not 
get  home  so  soon  as  I  intended;  stay  as  long 
as  you  can  be  of  any  help  to  the  poor  fellow; 
it  is  not  always  that  these  poor  devils  can 
have  the  comforting  help  of  such  kind-hearted 
ones  as  you  be,  Rissy,"  he  said  wiping  a  tear 
from  his  rough  cheek;  "good-night,  girl," 
he  continued. 

"Thank  you,  father,  and  good-night.  I'll 
be  home  as  soon  as  possible." 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          13 

They  parted  at  the  door,  the  man  retrac 
ing  his  steps  over  the  path  by  which  he  had 
come  home,  and  the  girl  to  the  cottage,  that 
lay  in  a  different  direction  nearly  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  distant,  where  the  doctor  watched 
by  a  bed  of  pain. 


CHAPTER  II 

SIGNS    OF    DISCONTENT 

"Whoever  conjures  up  mischief  in  this  domain  in 
order  to  draw  his  profit  therefrom,  is  a  twin  brother 
to  the  criminal  that  causes  the  express  train  to  be  de 
railed  in  order  to  rob  it." 

— Andrew    Carnegie. 

Clarissa  hurried  along  the  path,  little  heed 
ing  such  as  she  passed  upon  the  way.  Nor 
did  she  take  note  that  there  was  an  unusual 
stirring  of  people  abroad  at  that  hour,  but 
going  directly  to  the  cottage  where  a  dim 
light  shone  from  the  window,  she  entered 
quietly  and  was  presently  standing  by  the 
side  of  Dr.  Acton,  who  still  sat  by  the  bed 
side  of  his  patient. 

"This  poor  fellow  will  have  a  hard  battle 
for  his  life,  Miss,"  observed  the  doctor  shak 
ing  his  head  slowly  from  side  to  side,  a  manner 
expressive  of  much  doubt. 

"Is  there  anything  that  we  can  do — that 
I  can  do,  Doctor?"  queried  Clarissa,  with  a 
tone  of  great  concern. 
14 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          15 

"Nothing — nothing  but  watchful  care;  if 
you  can  remain  by  him  for  an  hour,  I  will 
go  where  I  can  have  something  to  eat  and  a 
little  exercise  in  the  open  air;  this  close  room 
and  the  odor  of  the  anaesthetic  have  a  stupe 
fying  effect  upon  me.  Can  you  stay  by 
this  poor  fellow  for  an  hour?"  And  Dr. 
Acton  looked  up  into  the  face  of  the  young 
woman  with  an  entreating,  eager  gaze. 

He  started  perceptibly  as  he  beheld  the 
lovely,  expressive  face  of  Clarissa,  exhibit 
ing  such  tenderness  and  compassion.  The 
beauty  of  the  girl  was  enhanced  by  the  ex 
pression  of  mingled  pity  and  pain  that  lit 
up  her  eyes,  while  the  glow  which  her  rapid 
walk  had  given  to  her  cheeks,  and  the  part 
ing  of  the  rich  ruby  lips  added  greatly  to 
her  otherwise  pretty  face.  Dr.  Acton  thought 
she  presented  the  most  lovely  picture  of 
feminine  beauty  he  had  ever  beheld,  and  so 
it  happened  that  his  last  words  were  uttered 
in  tones  that  betrayed  astonishment  and 
pleasing  wonder  at  the  vision  before  him. 

Clarissa,  struck  by  the  manner  and  tone 
of  the  doctor,  was  somewhat  slow  in  reply 
ing,  while  the  former  found  some  difficulty 
in  commanding  his  voice.  A  blush  of  modest 


16          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

feeling  suffused  the  face  and  neck  of  the 
young  girl,  as  she  found  herself  so  intently 
regarded  by  her  companion,  and  this  only 
tended  to  heighten  her  beauty  still  more. 

At  last  the  Doctor  blundered  out,  "Well, 
if  you  can  find  someone  to  come  and  sit  with 
my  patient — and  perhaps  you  will  remain 
too,  I  should  so  much  like  your  help  on  my 
return.  You  are  so  brave,  and  much  is 
still  to  be  done  before  the  poor  fellow  can 
be  left  for  the  night,  and" — he  stopped, 
thinking  he  observed  some  hesitancy  on 
the  part  of  his  listener,  but  resumed,  "You 
will  stay,  won't  you?  I  know  it  may  be  late, 
but  I  will  accompany  you  to  your  home, 
when  my — when  our  work  is  done." 

"That  will  be  unnecessary,  Doctor.  Yes, 
I  will  stay  here  while  you  go  for  supper  and 
some  fresh  air.  Must  I  do  anything  but  watch 
by  him?"  pointing  toward  the  restless  form 
stretched  upon  the  bed  near  by. 

"Only  if  he  should  attempt  to  rise,  gently 
press  him  back  upon  the  bed,  and  tell  him 
to  lie  quiet,  that  the  doctor  will  be  here  in 
a  moment.  Your  own  judgment  will  guide 
you  as  to  other  things  necessary.  But  I 
do  not  anticipate  any  need  for  more  than 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          17 

quiet  watching,"  he  explained,  and  then 
added,  "You  will  remain?  I  will  be  going 
now;  good-night, — good-night,"  he  repeated 
taking  her  hand  an  instant  and  pressing  it 
tremblingly  in  his  own. 

Clarissa  withdrew  her  hand  in  a  firm  manner 
and  moved  at  once  to  the  side  of  the  patient, 
answering  softly,  "Good-night,  Dr.  Acton," 
and  he  passed  out  upon  the  street. 

The  doctor  hurried  along  the  streets  to  the 
dimly  lighted  part  of  the  settlement  beyond,  nor 
did  he  notice  the  groups  of  loud  talking 
miners,  until  he  came  upon  one  crowd  larger 
than  the  rest,  where  a  tall,  stalwart-looking 
person  was  addressing  some  fifteen  or  twenty 
men  attentively  listening  to  his  words. 

When  he  came  nearer  Dr.  Acton  heard 
Luke  Darrell  say:  "You  may  be  sure  the 
Company  is  not  going  to  give  up  this  reduc 
tion  that  has  been  posted:  I  don't  believe, 
men,  that  the  Company  is  altogether  to 
blame  for  these  low  wages,  nor  are  we  to 
blame  either;  but  it  is  the  system  of  trade, 
rather  than  anything  else.  Now  just  let  me 
tell  you,  that  these  companies  that  own  these 
mines  have  to  furnish  coal  and  iron  at  prices 
that  will  meet  the  competition  in  the  trade. 


18          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

There  are  coal  and  iron  mines  all  about  us,  and 
then  there  are  still  other  great  districts  where 
these  products  are  found  in  abundance  as 
well  as  here.  Now  if  the  Mother  Lode  Com 
pany,  or  the  Black  Diamond  Company, 
were  to  pay  higher  wages  than  these  other 
companies  they  could  not  sell  their  products 
at  a  profit  in  the  market  and  they  must  there 
fore  fail.  What  we  have  to  complain  of  more 
than  anything  else,  is  the  bringing  in  of  these 
foreigners  to  divide  work  with  us;  and  whether 
this  foreign  class  come  to  our  mines  or  find 
work  in  the  other  mining  districts  we  are  bound 
to  suffer  accordingly.  The  great  question 
is  not  work  for  us,  but  now  that  we  have 
work,  it  is — better  wages.  Besides,  the  im 
provement  in  all  kinds  of  machinery  is  setting 
free  a  great  host  of  workmen,  who  crowd  us 
closer  and  closer." 

"What  I  want  to  see,  men,  is  a  change  in 
our  system  that  will  give  every  man  a  fair 
show  to  live,  and  some  shorter  hours  of  toil. 
We  must  not  content  ourselves  with  howling 
against  the  wealthy;  that  may  do  very  well 
for  calling  the  attention  to  the  fact  that  a 
great  gulf  is  widening  between  labor  and 
capital;  but  we  must  rather  devote  ourselves, 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          19 

and  urge  the  co-operation  of  others,  to  se 
cure  for  us  a  chance  to  share  in  the  earnings 
of  these  companies." 

"You  threaten  to  strike  for  higher  wages 
and  I  cannot  blame  you  and  I  should  be  willing 
to  aid  you  in  this,  did  I  but  know  that  our 
striking  would  gain  anything  for  us,  but  my 
experience,  yes,  the  experience  of  most  of 
you  men,  goes  to  show  that  no  real  gain  is 
to  result  from  such  a  course.  Now,  you 
have  listened  to  me  quietly,  as  I  asked;  let 
me  make  one  proposition  which  I  believe 
if  carried  out  will  help  us  all.  Will  you  hear 
what  I  have  to  offer?" 

Luke  had  held  the  attention  of  the  crowd 
while  he  spoke,  and  Dr.  Acton  observed  that 
he  posessed  much  of  the  power  of  the  trained 
orator,  but  with  all  he  was  so  quiet  and  un 
assuming  in  his  manner,  so  gentle  and  so 
convincing  in  his  utterance  and  language 
that  the  men  only  waited  now  for  him  to 
proceed  while  two  or  three  called  out,  "Luke's 
right,  fellows,"  "Let's  hear  what  Luke  has 
to  say." 

Thus  enjoined  to  listen  the  crowd  drew 
to  closer  circle  about  their  leader,  and  Luke 
Darrell  proceeded: 


20          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"Let  us  go  to  the  manager  of  our  Company 
quietly  and  respectfully,  and  lay  our  case 
plainly  before  him,  asking  him  to  send  the 
substance  of  what  we  have  to  say  to  the 
directors,  with  a  request  to  them  from  us 
that  the  present  reduction  be  put  off,  say  one 
month  and  at  the  end  of  that  time,  if  no  way  can 
be  found  for  continuing  at  the  present  wages, 
that  as  many  of  us  as  do  not  wish  to  keep  on  at 
that  rate,  be  allowed  our  pay  and  a  chance 
to  find  work  somewhere  else.  At  the  same 
time  let  us  also  suggest  that  no  new  gang 
of  men  be  brought  in  here  to  interfere  with 
us  and  our  wages,  so  long  as  we  peaceably 
and  industriously  attend  to  the  Company's 
work.  Besides,  let  us  propose  that  if  the 
Company  will  deal  justly  with  us,  pay  us 
the  best  wages  they  can,  that  at  the  end  of 
the  year  they  deduct  from  their  net  earnings 
so  much  as  will  pay  them  a  fair  rate  of  in 
come  on  their  capital  and  distribute  the 
remainder  as  dividends  to  labor." 

Here  a  low  murmur  of  surprise  and  un 
belief  rose  from  the  knot  of  listeners,  but 
all  resumed  their  former  attitude  of  atten 
tion  and  interest. 

"D'ye    think    that    the    Company    would 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          21 

listen  to  such  talk  as  that,"  ventured  one 
man.  "Not  I!  Let  me  tell  you,  these  com 
panies  have  no  hearts:  a  strike,  and  a  strike 
hard  is  the  only  thing  that'll  move  em'. 
Your  talk  is  all  very  nice,  but  yer  can't  allus 
catch  beavers  with  fine  bait.  Give  'em 
the  strike  /  say." 

The  speaker  was  Worry  Watson,  who, 
standing  a  little  aloof  from  the  crowd  which 
Luke  had  been  addressing,  now  moved  nervous 
ly  about,  evidently  not  relishing  the  fine 
flow  of  words,  and  the  wholesome  advice  of 
the  speaker. 

"Yes,  Worry,"  said  Luke,  speaking  over 
the  heads  of  the  others  and  addressing  his 
words  sharply  to  that  person,  "you  forget 
what  came  of  the  last  strike — the  hunger, 
and  sickness,  and  misery;  and  that,  in  the 
end  the  Company  maintained  the  reduc 
tion;  and  you  forget  that  there  are  others, — 
wives  and  children — that  go  without  while 
we  are  idle.  A  strike,  man,  does  not  help 
the  Company  to  keep  up  its  profits,  but 
puts  it  just  that  much  more  in  the  hole; 
and  the  men  lose  now  and  in  the  future,  too. 
If  our  Company,  Worry,  can  only  feel  that 
they  can  rely  on  their  men  at  all  times,  it 


22          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

can  provide  against  loss  and  still  be  able  to 
meet  the  competition  they  find  in  the  market. 
You  are  wrong  this  time,  Worry,  you  were 
wrong  in  the  last  strike,  and  I  was  wrong, 
too;  we  were  all  wrong;  but  during  those 
terrible  days  of  '87  I  saw  enough  to  open 
my  eyes,  and  I  have  done  a  heap  of  thinking 
since  then;  and  now  I  believe  that  I  am  right 
in  advising  peaceable  measures.  Don't  let 
us  do  anything  we  shall  come  to  regret,  fellows; 
and  you  all  know  what  terrible  times  followed 
the  awful  strike  I  have  referred  to."  Luke 
stopped  speaking  and  waved  his  great  arm 
over  towards  the  settlement  of  the  miners 
behind  him,  endeavoring  by  this  gesture  to 
turn  their  minds  to  the  clusters  of  humble 
homes,  where  nestled  the  loved  ones  of  these 
sturdy  men. 

Dr.  Acton  suddenly  recollected  his  own 
mission,  and  waiting  but  a  moment  to  speak 
to  Luke,  hastened  on  toward  the  heart  of 
the  settlement.  His  words  were,  "Friend 
Darrell,  I'll  do  what  I  can  when  the  time 
comes,  if  my  services  can  be  of  any  use  to 
you,"  and  shaking  Luke's  great,  rough  hand, 
hurried  on.  As  he  went  he  caught  the  words, 
"Thank  you,  thank  you,  Doctor." 


CHAPTER  III 

STRIKE  THREATENED  IN  THE  MOTHER  LODE 

"When  you  show  me  a  rose  like  that  yonder, 
"Blooming  'neath  the  bright  azure  now, 
"Why  then  more  demure  do  I  ponder, 
"When  you  show  me  a  rose  like  that  yonder? 
"  'Tis  that  I  think  of  her  chaste  brow — 
"  'Tis  that  I  think  of  her  chaste  brow." 

— French  Song. 

After  appeasing  the  cravings  of  the  inner 
man,  Dr.  Acton  returned  to  the  cottage 
where  he  had  left  Clarissa  in  charge  of  his 
patient.  No  change  had  taken  place  in 
the  latter's  condition  except  that  he  was  a 
little  more  restless  than  an  hour  before. 
The  doctor  immediately  asked  the  girl  what 
had  happened  in  his  absence,  but  she  had 
nothing  of  importance  to  report.  He  then 
felt  of  the  patient's  pulse,  and  busied  him 
self  later  in  preparing  some  drops  which  he 
at  once  administered,  the  while  studying 
by  the  signs  so  well  known  to  his  professional 
eye,  the  effect.  In  a  short  time  the  patient 
23 


24          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

became  quiet  and  fell  off  into  a  peaceful 
slumber. 

"It  is  perhaps  a  little  hard  to  disturb  his 
rest,  Miss — ,"  and  he  hesitated  as  if  ex 
pecting  that  Clarissa  would  supply  the  name 
he  did  not  know,  but  she  appeared  not  to 
notice  the  implied  question.  "We  must  dress 
the  other  wounds  now,  while  he  is  in  this 
quiet  condition.  Now  if  you  will  kindly 
bring  those  bandages  and  lint,  I  will  go  at 
my  work  at  once." 

Clarissa  hastened  to  obey,  and  the  doctor 
proceeded  without  delay  to  examine  and  treat 
each  injured  part  as  in  his  judgment  the  case 
required.  They  were  thus  busied  for  some 
minutes,  the  girl  following  directions  of  the 
physician  and  lending  such  aid  as  she  could 
to  his  efforts,  when  the  door  was  pushed 
gently  open  and  a  girlish  form  appeared 
before  them. 

There  were  signs  of  distress  in  the  poor, 
pinched  features  of  the  girl,  and  her  eyes 
showed  unmistakable  signs  of  weeping.  Her 
garments  were  poor  but  clean,  and  her  toes 
peeped  from  shoes  long  past  their  best  days. 
She  might  have  been  twelve  or  thirteen  years 
of  age,  although  the  look  of  her  face  betokened 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          25 

much  suffering,  and  to  less  practiced  eyes 
than  those  accustomed  to  such  life  as  is  to 
be  found  in  a  mining  community,  would  have 
stamped  the  child  as  more  nearly  twenty. 

"Is  this  where  they  have  brought  my  father, 
Mark  Waring,  who  was  hurt  in  the  Black 
Diamond  shaft  this  afternoon?"  she  asked 
in  a  tremulous,  anxious  voice. 

"Yes,  child,  is  Mark  Waring  your  father?" 
asked  Dr.  Acton,  kindly. 

"He  is  my  father,  sir,  and  I  am  the  only 
one  he  has  in  the  world  to  love  him;  and  he 
is  all  the  world  to  me.  Oh,  tell  me,  is  he 
badly  hurt?  Will  he  get  well?  Will  he  die? 
Does  he  suffer  much?  Tell  me,  Doctor!" 

"I  must  say  that  he  is  quite  badly  hurt, 
my  child,  and  I  hope  he  will  get  well,  although 
it  will  be  many  days  before  he  will  be  strong 
enough  to  go  back  to  work;  at  present  he  is 
resting  nicely;  his  wounds  are  all  dressed, 
and  care,  with  proper  nursing  is  all  that  can 
be  done  for  him  now." 

"Oh,  Doctor,  how  glad  I  am  to  hear  you 
say  he  will  not  die.  And  as  to  the  nursing 
and  care,  I  can  help  so  much  with  that.  Will 
he  be  brought  home  to-night?" 

"No  not  tonight,  my  girl;  he  is  not  strong 


26          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

enough  for  that,  and  I  will  arrange  with 
the  lady  of  the  house  for  him  to  remain  here 
a  day  or  two.  You  can  sit  by  your  father 
for  a  short  time  while  I  accompany  this 
young  lady  to  her  home.  She  has  been  very 
kind  and  helpful  in  attending  to  your  father, 
child — What  is  your  name,  little  one?"  asked 
the  Doctor. 

"Margery,  sir,  Margery  Waring."  And 
she  looked  up  into  Clarissa's  face  and  kind 
eyes. 

"Is  your  name  Clarissa  Watson?"  asked 
the  child  in  her  artless  manner. 

"Yes,  Margery;  do  you  know  me  then?" 
replied  Clarissa. 

"Who  that  does  not  know  you,  Miss  Wat 
son,  you  are  so  kind  and  good  to  every  one. 
I  know  you  have  been  kind  to  my  poor, 
dear  father  as  the  doctor  has  said.  Let  me 
thank  you  now;  and  your  kindness  I  shall 
never  forget,"  continued  Margery  in  her 
earnest,  sweet  manner,  burying  her  tearful 
face  in  Clarissa's  outstretched  hand. 

"You  may  take  a  look  at  my  patient, 
Margery,"  said  the  Doctor,  motioning  her 
gently  toward  the  bedside;  and  then  you 
must  sit  here  quite  still,  dear,  while  I  am 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          27 

gone;  your  father  will  continue  to  sleep  for 
some  time,  and  will  only  need  his  little  watcher 
beside  him.  "Come  Miss — Miss  Watson?" 
ventured  Dr.  Acton,  in  his  kindest  tone. 

"Good-night,  Margery,  and  God  bless  you, 
my  child,"  said  Clarissa  heartily,  as  she 
stooped  to  kiss  the  sad  cheek  of  the  little 
one,  who  was  yet  to  learn  of  her  parent's 
painful  loss  of  his  good  right  arm. 

The  doctor  and  Clarissa  withdrew,  and 
were  soon  following  the  path  toward  the 
humble  home  of  the  Watson's. 

Though  the  night  was  now  far  advanced 
they  passed  groups  of  men  earnestly  engaged 
in  the  discussion  of  the  anticipated  reduc 
tion  of  wages  in  the  mines;  and  in  the  dis 
tant,  busy  part  of  the  town,  lights  were  still 
burning  in  the  shops  and  drinking  houses. 
As  they  passed  one  of  these  places  loud, 
angry  words  arrested  their  attention,  and 
the  voice  of  the  man,  who  answered  Luke 
Darrell  earlier  in  the  evening  fell  upon  Dr. 
Acton's  ears  as  familiar. 

"Who's  to  blame  for  low  wages,  I'd  like 
to  know?  Isn't  it  just  such  milk  and  water 
fellows  as  Luke  Darrell,  who  are  allus  ad- 
visin'  and  arguin'  that  the  Company's  not 


28          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

ter  blame,  and  that  strikes  don't  do  n'o  good. 
I  tell  ye  that  a  strike  is  comin'  an'  we  may 
just  as  well  make  up  our  minds  to  it,"  angrily 
contended  Watson. 

Clarissa  darted  from  the  side  of  Dr.  Acton 
and  caught  her  father  tremblingly  by  the  arm. 

"Get  off  now,"  shouted  Watson  in  an  even 
more  angry  tone.  "What  d'ye  want  with 
me,  you — ?"  His  last  words  were  not  finished, 
for  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  sweet,  pleading 
look  of  his  daughter,  and  he  quietly  per 
mitted  himself  to  be  led  a  few  paces  from 
the  crowd  of  uncouth  men  who  were  gathered 
about  the  door  of  the  saloon,  some  also  go 
ing  in  and  others  passing  from  the  fatal  place. 

"Come,  father,  let  us  go  home  now.  It 
is  getting  quite  late  'and  as  Dr.  Acton  and  I 
are  returning  fom  the  cottage  yonder,  you 
had  best  walk  along  with  us,"  Clarissa  spoke 
hurriedly,  but  earnestly,  her  voice  carrying 
the  tones  both  of  entreaty  and  command. 
Worry  Watson,  without  fully  comprehending 
the  whole  intention  of  the  girl,  obeyed  me 
chanically,  his  surprise  and  the  ready  action 
of  his  daughter  strengthening  her  control 
of  him. 

"You    will    not   object    then    to    my   going 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          29 

along  with  you,  Miss  Watson?"  queried  the 
doctor,  hesitating  either  to  continue  or  de 
part  since  he  noticed  the  highly  intoxicated 
condition  of  Worry. 

"Perhaps  you  had  best  not  come,  Doctor," 
replied  Clarissa,  regretfully.  But  seeing  that 
Watson  would,  in  all  probability,  prove  too 
great  a  charge  for  the  frail  girl,  the  doctor 
came  to  her  aid  and  directed  his  steps  home 
ward.  They  had  not  gone  far,  however, 
when  the  stupor,  produced  by  the  first  shock 
of  surprise,  passed  off,  and  Worry  began  to 
show  signs  of  returning  consciousness;  with 
this  change  of  feeling  also  returned  the  de 
sire  to  pursue  his  purpose  of  haranguing 
his  fellows,  and  likewise  a  distrust  of  those 
who  were  unresistingly  urging  him  forward. 
At  this  moment,  too,  they  passed  near  a 
group  of  men,  who,  like  others,  were  engaged 
in  discussion;  wresting  his  arm  from  the  grasp 
of  the  unsuspecting  doctor,  he  turned  quickly 
aside,  dragging  at  his  other  arm  the  girl 
whose  firm  hold  still  fastened  upon  him. 
The  appearance,  thus  presented  to  the  un- 
apprised  members  of  the  group,  was  that 
some  effort  was  being  made  to  over-power 
the  drunken  man,  either  for  robbery  or  murder, 


30          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

or  as  some  saw  it — an  attempt  of  violence 
upon  an  unprotected  female. 

Some,  therefore,  immediately  set  Worry 
at  liberty  from  the  restraint  placed  upon 
his  movements  by  his  daughter's  firm  hand, 
while  others  unceremoniously  seized  Dr.  Acton, 
and  would  have  dealt  summarily  with  him, 
perhaps,  had  not  the  quick  presence  of  mind 
both  of  Clarissa  and  himself  prevented  such 
a  catastrophe. 

"We  are  only  going  home,  friends,"  said 
the  girl;  "it  is  late,  and  this  gentleman  was 
kindly  guiding  us,"  pointing  to  Dr.  Acton. 

"I  hope  our  apparent  rudeness  has  not 
disturbed  you,  gentlemen,"  added  the  doctor, 
"I  beg  your  pardon,  sirs." 

"Aye,  you  have  done  no  harm,  sir;  and 
I  am  sorry  that  we  have  misunderstood  the 
cause  of  all  this  tumult,"  responded  the 
strong,  manly  voice  of  Luke  Darrell,  who 
had  seized  firm  hold  of  Worry,  taking  him 
to  be  the  real  offender  and  supposing  that 
he  was  a  fleeing  thief  or  other  violater  of 
the  law. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Darrell,"— began  Clarissa. 

"Who  d'ye  think  you  be,  sir,  that  ye  per- 
tend  to  lay  yer  rough  hands  upon  me?  Stand 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          31 

off  there!"  and  Worry  squared  away  threaten 
ing  to  demolish  Luke,  should  he  persist  in 
any  further  attempt  to  restrain  his  liberty. 

"Come,  now,  friend  Watson,"  entreated 
Luke,  "let  us  not  be  at  outs  over  a  slight 
mistake  in  the  dark.  I  only  suspected  some 
thing  was  going  wrong  and  I  find  I  was  only 
trying  to  protect  your  daughter,  sir." 

"Well,  Doctor,"  Luke  continued,  "and 
how  comes  it  that  you  are  one  of  the  dis 
turbers  of  the  peace?  Ha,  ha;  it  is  really  a 
little  'comedy  of  errors'  after  all.  Come, 
Worry,  let's  move  along,  I  am  wanting  to 
have  a  quiet  word  with  you,  and,  if  you  don't 
mind,  we  will  all  walk  over  toward  your 
house,  and  I  can  have  my  say  as  we  go." 

Worry,  oblivious  to  all  that  was  going  on 
around  him,  and  remembering  only  his  pur 
pose,  was  haranguing  the  crowd  at  the  top 
of  his  voice: 

"We  are  in  for  a  general  strike,  fellows; 
and  let  me  tell  you  that  Worry  Watson  will 
lead  as  well  as  follow,  come  what  will;  the 
reduction  is  an  outrage;  how  can  we  hope 
to  live  on  one  cent  less  than  the  present 
wages;  I  tell  ye,  we  are  starvin'  now;  it's 
a  raise  we  want;  to  Hell  with  the  Company; 


32          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

down  with  wealth  and  capital!  We'll  have 
more  wages  or  the  Mother  Lode  Company 
will  find  that  it  does  not  pay  to  oppress  labor. 
Fire  their  buildings;  blow  up  their  mines; 
set  on  to  these  devils  of  bosses  and  managers 
and  drag  them  out  of  their  soft  beds  and  el 
egant  homes.  At  'em  I  say,"  and  Watson 
brandished  imaginary  weapons  in  the  air 
about  him. 

Some  of  those  present  who  evidently  sym 
pathized  with  the  speaker  raised  a  faint  cheer 
at  the  fiery  words  of  the  drunken  man,  but 
Luke  pressed  forward  and  his  full,  firm  voice 
was  soon  heard  above  the  din  as  he  calmly 
took  up  the  challenge  to  his  views. 

"You  must  not  be  listening  to  Worry  now, 
men,"  he  said  in  his  calmest  tones;  "there 
is  no  reason  in  destroying  property,"  aiming 
at  Worry's  weakest  point;  "Take  everything 
quietly;  there  will  be  a  way  out  of  our  trouble 
when  we  reach  it.  It  would  not  help  the 
Company  to  pay  better  wages,  if  they  had 
to  undo  the  mischief  some  of  us  have  been 
harboring  against  them.  Then  to  do  vio 
lence  to  the  Company's  servants!  Why, 
what  kind  of  sense  would  there  be  in  taking 
vengeance  on  them?  Do  we  want  that  sin 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          33 

upon  our  hands?  You  must  know  that  if 
some  two  thousand  men  become  excited 
with  such  notions  in  their  heads  there  will 
be  no  telling  where  all  these  things  may  end." 

The  men  seemed  to  come  together  again 
as  if  ruled  by  the  wisdom  of  the  speaker's 
words,  but  controlled  more,  perhaps,  by 
the  calm,  earnest  manner  than  by  Luke's 
arguments.  But  Worry  still  presented  an 
unperturbed  front. 

"Luke  Darrell,"  he  called,  "who  pays 
you  to  defend  the  Mother  Lode?  D'ye 
think  us  fellers  can't  see  through  your 
masqueradin'?  It's  plain  enough  you  want 
the  Company's  minions  to  know  how  you 
are  for  them  and  their  cussed  reduction.  I 
know  yer  game  well  enough;  and  I  know  you, 
too,  Luke  Darrell,"  and  Worry  advanced 
to  the  peace  champion,  wagging  his  fist  in 
a  menacing  manner;  "I  know  yer;  you  would 
defend  the  Devil,  you  would,  if  yer  thought 
yer  could  gain  his  favor,"  and  the  speaker 
gesticulated  furioulsy  as  he  uttered  his  bold 
denunciation. 

"Come,  father,"  interposed  Clarissa,  "you 
must  not  say  such  hard  things  about  Mr. 
Darrell;  you  know  he  has  always  been  your 


34          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

friend,  and  even  now  wishes  to  speak  pri 
vately  with  you;  I  am  sure  that  what  he  has 
to  say  will  prove  for  the  good  of  all  of  us. 
Come,  let  us  go  home  at  once,"  and  the  girl 
gently  but  firmly,  took  hold  of  her  parent's 
arm,  urging  him  toward  the  homeward  path. 

Clarissa's  influence  over  her  father  was 
ever  strong  and  proportionately  effective, 
but  the  spell  of  drink  and  the  strength  of  his 
own  purpose  to  incite  active  opposition  to 
the  wage  cut  with  his  fellow  miners  largely 
outweighed  the  girl's  ascendency  over  him, 
and  it  was  only  after  much  coaxing,  and  a 
suggestion  from  Luke  that  Worry  could 
later  return  to  the  work  of  speechifying, 
that  he  was  at  last  persuaded  to  submit  to 
being  led  home. 

Dr.  Acton,  who  had  been  a  silent,  but 
keen  observer  of  all  that  had  passed,  signi 
fied  to  Clarissa  that  he  would  not  be  further 
needed,  as  Luke  was  to  accompany  her  and 
Watson  and  so  departed  to  the  scene  of  suffer 
ing  at  the  little  cottage.  He  had  been  greatly 
impressed  with  many  things  that  had  trans- 
spired  during  the  last  few  hours,  and  his  mind 
quickly  ran  over  in  review  the  incidents 
that  suggested  the  varied  train  of  thoughts. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          35 

Herbert  Acton  was  a  young  man  of  perhaps 
eight  and  twenty  or  thirty  years.  A  graduate 
of  the  New  York  School  of  Medicine  and 
Surgery,  he  had  put  in  three  years  in  hos 
pital  practice  in  that  city  and  in  Philadelphia; 
then  after  two  more  of  faithful  practice  in  the 
latter  city  he  had  accepted  a  position  on 
the  Mother  Lode  Mining  Company's  medical 
staff,  and  had  been  sent  only  a  few  months 
previous  to  the  opening  of  our  story  to  the 
charge  at  Carbon  Vale.  Dr.  Acton  was  a 
man  of  many  noble  and  excellent  traits;  one 
whose  disposition,  gentle  by  nature,  had 
been  softened  by  the  scenes  of  distress  and 
suffering  he  had  been  called  upon  in  the 
pursuit  of  his  professional  duties  to  observe. 
He  was  one  of  those  who  by  character  and 
life  seemed  so  fittingly  set  apart  to  the  work 
of  relieving  suffering,  and  of  counseling  and 
comforting  the  distressed. 

Too  often  do  we  find  men  filling  professions 
of  usefulness  to  society,  who  fail  signally 
in  many  of  the  essentials  of  character  and 
education,  and  whose  life-work  in  their  chosen 
profession,  is  marred  by  an  over-weaning 
desire  for  fame,  or  richs,  or  honor;  so  much 
so,  indeed,  as  to  cause  us  to  doubt  their  real 


36          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

fitness  for  such  calling.  There  has  long  been 
a  prevailing  estimate  of  education,  and  it 
still  holds  sway  to  a  large  extent,  that  all 
school  work  should  be  practical,  and  that 
this  practical  preparation  means  the  exclu 
sion  from  the  so-called  preparatory  school 
of  every  kind  of  training  that  contributes 
to  humanities;  that  given  a  child  who  is 
to  be  an  accountant,  and  his  preparation 
must  be  on  lines  tending  to  make  him  quick 
and  accurate  in  figures,  forgetting  that  he 
will  have  more  to  do  with  mercy  and  justice, 
more  with  pure  honesty  and  sympathy  with 
his  fellow  men  than  with  addition  and  sub 
traction.  The  great  man  is  always  the  good 
man,  the  man  of  aesthetic  tastes  should  be 
equally  the  man  of  ethical  culture  and  sym 
pathetic  sensibilities.  But  your  advocate  of 
the  practical  school  says,  lay  down  the  rule 
that  "two  and  two  make  four"  and  the  child 
so  taught  will  also  learn  the  Golden  Rule 
in  business  as  in  morals,  forgetting  that 
good  business  principles  are  essentially  good 
moral  principles  simply  reduced  to  practice. 
The  lawyer  who  does  not  know  honesty;  the 
religious  guide  who  does  not  know  love  of 
humanity  and  obedience  to  the  higher  life; 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          37 

the  teacher  who  is  devoid  of  sympathy  and 
hearty  disinterestedness;  and  so,  too,  the 
physician  who  has  not  the  larger  heart  of 
compassion  and  tender  charity: — all  fail  of 
the  high  vocation  to  which  they  consecrate 
their  lives,  and  fall  far  short  of  the  real  as  well 
as  the  ideal  in  their  professions.  Riches, 
nor  fame,  nor  honor  can  save  such  from  the 
just  recompense  of  shame  to  which  they  are 
ultimately  consigned  by  the  social  condemna 
tion  which  they  inevitably  suffer  as  the  pen 
alty  of  their  omissions. 

Herbert  Acton's  earliest  life  had  been 
guided  by  those  who  saw  a  purpose  in  school 
training,  and  a  high  purpose  in  all  those 
things  of  environment  that  do  more  than 
all  the  dry  forms  of  school  work.  Both  in 
religious  and  business  training,  his  course 
had  been  directed  by  parents  who  looked 
more  to  the  spiritual  and  moral  up-building 
of  the  man  that  to  the  acquisition  of  knowl 
edge.  They  recognized  that  the  potential 
ity  of  knowledge  is  widsom,  i.e.,  the  know 
ing  how  to  do  right.  This  is  the  true  power 
that  knowledge  gives,  and  this  it  was  their 
one  wish  to  leave  as  a  legacy  to  their  son. 
Thus  it  was  that  the  wise  counsels  of  the  home, 


38          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

joined  to  the  strong  influence  of  heredity 
and  carefully  selected  environing  influences, 
united  with  his  school  and  professional  educa 
tion  to  make  him  a  man  of  heart,  purpose 
and  character. 

His  labors  in  the  miner's  settlement  at 
Carbon  Vale,  had  given  him  much  food  for 
thought;  in  all  his  professional  career  here 
tofore  no  such  touching  appeals  to  his  finer 
sense  of  feeling  had  he  met.  Here  he  found 
pain  and  wretchedness,  poverty  and  mental 
suffering,  moral  degeneracy  and  physical  de 
crepitude  immensely  greater  than  in  all  his 
former  experience.  Toil  without  meet  rec 
ompense,  and  suffering  without  alleviation 
were  seen  on  every  hand.  And  often  did 
it  seem  to  the  young  physician  that  the  God 
of  mercy  and  compassion  had  withdrawn 
His  hand  or  held  it  grudgingly  to  the  wretched 
people  with  whom  his  service  brought  him 
in  contact. 

Nor  did  he  know  what  a  reaction  was 
taking  place  from  these  stern  influences  upon 
his  noble  life.  In  his  daily  rounds  he  dropped 
the  gentle  word  and  bestowed  the  kindly 
look;  he  grew  in  though tfulness  of  how  he 
might  contribute  to  the  dispensation  of  what, 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          39 

it  appeared  to  him,  Providence  had  denied 
or  at  least  grudgingly  supplied.  His  purse 
no  less  than  his  heart  loosed  its  strings,  and 
often  where  professional  duty  ended,  human 
sympathy  began. 

Rapidly,  and  with  ever  increasing  mo 
mentum,  Dr.  Acton's  influence  for  good  grew, 
and  his  popularity  among  all  classes  gave 
him  a  power  in  the  community,  which  a  less 
devoted,  or  more  selfish  person  could  not 
have  gained  among  the  simple  miners  of  the 
Mother  Lode.  Nor  did  he  know  either 
his  popularity  or  power:  and  had  it  ever  oc 
curred  to  him  that  he  was  gaining  such  an 
ascendency  over  these  poor  men  and  their 
families,  it  would  have  pained  him  to  think 
that  it  ever  could  have  been  for  other  ends 
than  their  good.  But  the  day  was  rapidly 
approaching  when  this  very  influence  was  to 
be  wielded  for  the  good  of  all  about  him. 

A  firm  friendship  had  grown  up,  even  in 
the  short  time  during  which  Herbert  Acton 
had  been  stationed  at  the  Mother  Lode, 
between  him  and  Luke  Darrell,  the  straight 
forward,  ingenuous  manner  of  the  latter  at 
tracting  no  less  than  the  sincere  and  disin 
terested  overtures  of  the  former. 


40          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

Luke  Darrell,  as  we  have  seen,  commanded 
the  ears  and  the  respect  of  his  fellows,  one 
and  all,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree;  Herbert 
Acton  had  access  to  their  hearts  and  con 
fidence.  Thus  it  happened  that  a  strong 
alliance  had  been  formed  from  causes,  which 
some  might  suspect  lay  hidden  in  psycholog 
ic  influences,  but  which  a  more  careful  scru 
tiny  would  reveal  were  due  to  influences  most 
natural — the  power  of  both  these  men  to 
read  character,  and  to  choose  that  which  was 
genuine  from  the  spurious. 

When,  therefore,  early  in  the  evening 
the  young  physician  had  taken  the  miner's 
hand  in  a  perfectly  friendly  grasp,  and  had 
pledged  his  support  in  the  latter's  under 
taking, — to  quiet  the  rising  storm,  and  at 
the  same  time,  to  direct  the  plans  put  for 
ward  by  his  humble  friend  for  the  further 
ance  of  the  workingman's  interest,  there 
flashed  between  these  two  a  mutual  recogni 
tion  of  each  other's  sincerity  and  integrity 
of  purpose. 

Herbert  Acton  had  said,  "Friend  Darrell, 
I'll  do  what  I  can  when  the  time  comes, 
if  my  services  can  be  of  any  use  to  you." 
And  Luke  Darrell  had  simply  replied,  "Thank 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          41 

you,  Doctor,"  But  in  that  moment  a  com 
pact  had  been  drawn,  signed,  and  sealed 
which  was  to  have  a  more  binding  force  than 
the  most  solemn  obligation  imposed  by  the 
laws  of  society.  Out  of  this  plight  was  to 
grow  the  greatest  of  sacrifices  and  self-denials; 
while  through  their  mutual  assistance,  great 
things  were  to  be  accomplished  in  upholding 
the  interests  of  both  labor  and  capital;  misery 
and  shame  were  to  be  averted  and  a  lesson 
of  the  century  was  to  be  given  out  to  the 
oppressed  and  the  oppressor  alike. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  DEVIL'S  MINIONS 

"How  easily  great  fortunes  are  won — on  paper — and 
lost; — great  characters,  made  and  destroyed." 

—  Anon. 

Dr.  Acton,  on  his  return  to  the  cottage 
where  he  had  left  Margery  watching  by  the 
bedside  of  her  suffering  parent,  arranged 
that  the  child  should  find  a  home  for  a  few 
days  with  the  woman  of  the  house.  He  also 
provided  the  necessary  medicines,  and  in 
formed  the  housewife  that  a  regular  nurse 
of  the  staff  would  relieve  her  of  the  temporary 
charge  which  she  had  willingly  assumed. 

At  a  late  hour,  therefore,  the  tired  and  heart- 
sore  man  of  medicine  took  his  way  to  his 
quarters,  in  another  part  of  the  town.  As 
he  passed  over  the  many  blocks  of  streets 
which  lay  before  him,  the  face  and  form  of 
Clarissa  Watson  kept  companionship  with 
his  thoughts.  He  recalled,  with  vivid 
recollection,  that  first  look  into  her  sweet, 
42 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          43 

sympathetic  face;  he  saw  again  the  natural 
beauty,  heightened  by  her  feelings  of  com 
passion  and  the  ruddy  glow  of  exercise.  He 
felt  again  the  thrill  of  pleasure — such  a  thrill 
as  never  before  had  taken  possession  of  his 
feelings — that  passed  over  him  at  that  happy 
moment.  Nor  did  he  attempt  to  explain 
this  feeling  to  himself;  he  was  a  man  of  in 
genuous  nature,  and  was  therefore  not  given 
to  philosophizing  concerning  either  causes 
from  without  or  motives  from  within.  Had 
he  ever  experienced  like  sensations  before 
he  might  have  been  influenced  by  their  rec 
ollection  to  compare  the  intensity  and  pleasure 
of  this  occasion  with  former  occasions;  but 
Herbert  Acton  had  no  explanation  nor  did 
he  seek  any,  of  the  true  nature  of  his  feelings 
toward  this  young  lady.  Sufficed  it  to  him, 
he  was  happy  at  the  very  moment  and  now 
he  was  happy  again  in  the  recollection.  The 
subsequent  scenes,  through  which  he  had 
passed,  though  of  the  most  unpleasant 
character — the  meeting  with  Luke  and  the 
words  of  his  speech  in  the  earlier  part,  and  the 
episode  with  Worry  Watson  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  evening — detracted  in  no  degree 
from  the  vivid  realization  of  that  first  brief 


44          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

and  fleeting  recognition  of  an  affinity  which 
he  had  neither  the  power  nor  the  wish  to 
dismiss. 

The  maudlin  condition  of  the  girl's  father, 
together  with  the  revealed  character  as  shown 
in  his  words  and  actions,  the  young  man 
was  .not  prone  to  connect  with  the  happier 
scene,  though  he  could  not  altogether  dis 
connect  that  scene  from  its  unpleasant  back 
ground.  He  found  himself  forming  every 
possible  excuse  for  the  father's  degeneracy, 
and  explaining  his  conduct  on  the  ground 
of  drink — which  he  deprecated — and  his  at 
titude  in  the  matter  of  the  strike — which  he 
heartily  disapproved — on  the  score  of  igno 
rance  and  its  consequent  bias  of  judgment. 
He  could  not  avoid  an  odious  comparison 
between  Worry  and  Luke,  a  comparison  that 
in  points  of  advantage  to  Luke,  roused  within 
him  a  strong  compassion  for  the  former  and 
a  lofty  estimate  of  the  latter.  Luke  Darrell's 
character  passed  in  review  before  him:  he 
was  a  splendid  type  of  physical  manhood, 
strong  in  limb  and  handsome  in  feature; 
untainted  by  drink,  his  sober  judgment  and 
conviction  of  truth  shown  forth  in  his  every 
word  and  action;  Luke  was,  for  the  moment, 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          45 

the  young  doctor's  hero; — but  Worry — well, 
he  would  not  despise  him,  or  condemn  him, — 
was  he  not  Clarissa's  father?  but  oh,  how 
his  character  contrasted  with  that  of  his 
friend,  Luke  Darrell! 

In  his  dreams  Herbert  Acton  passed  through 
scenes  built  by  the  fancy  of  slumber,  in  which 
Clarissa  and  Margery — a  large-souled  beauty 
and  a  weak  yet  courageous  child — formed 
the  central  figures,  and  one-armed  Mark 
Waring  held  back  the  infuriated  Worry  who 
would  do  his  hero  Luke  some  great  violence, 
while  the  dreamer  stood  hesitating  and  help 
less  between  fear  and  duty. 

The  early  morning  found  Luke  Darrell 
astir  in  his  neat  little  cottage,  for  the  shorten 
ing  days  of  November  made  rising  before 
the  sun  a  necessity,  as  the  day  shift  in  the 
mines  drop  out  of  sight  on  such  days  some 
minutes  before  the  sun  sheds  his  light  above 
the  eastern  hills. 

"You  were  in  late,  Luke,"  said  that  young 
man's  mother  as  he  made  his  apprearance  at 
breakfast. 

"Yes,  mother,"  replied  Luke,  "you  know 
the  Company  has  posted  a  reduction  of  ten 
per  cent  to  take  effect  the  first  of  December." 


46          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"I  have  heard  as  much,"  returned  Mrs. 
Darrell,  looking  with  questioning  gaze  at 
the  strong,  young  man  before  her,  as  much 
as  to  say,  "And  what  does  my  boy  think 
about  it?" 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  mother,"  said  he 
proceeding  to  answer  her  question  as  though 
it  had  been  asked  in  words,  "I  am  very  sorry 
for  it,  but  I  really  expected  this  'cut'  sooner 
or  later," 

"How  so,  Luke;  how  could  you  know  aught 
of  the  Company's  intentions?  But  then, 
I  imagine  there  are  always  rumors  more  or 
less,  and  any  one  could  be  expecting  what 
has  occurred  so  often  of  late  years," 

"Not  altogether  that,  mother;  indeed,  that 
is  not  the  reason  of  my  expectation;  the  fact 
is  that  the  coal  and  iron  markets  have  been 
rapidly  declining,  and  there  are  so  many 
substitutes  for  coal  in  the  way  of  other  fuels, 
and  electricity  that  are  taking  the  price  out 
of  that  article;  besides,  labor-saving  ma 
chinery  and  importation  of  foreign  labor, 
are  grinding  down  the  miners,  perhaps  more 
than  any  other  class.  You  see,  it  would 
not  be  hard  for  any  one  who  reads  such  news 
and  weighs  consequences  to  foretell  that 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          47 

'cuts'  in  wages  are  sure  to  follow.  Then  a 
reduction  in  the  tariff,  both  in  coal  and  iron, 
is  putting  laborers  at  the  mercy  of  foreign 
production,  and  still  the  free  tariff  on  labor 
goes  on  undisturbed.*  This  is  why  I  say 
that  I  expected  this  reduction,  and  for  that 
matter  can  foretell  other  and  greater  troubles 
for  these  poor  people  about  us." 

"But  will  not  a  strike  be  the  outcome  of 
the  Company's  attempt  to  carry  out  its  pur 
pose  and  this  reduction?  You  know  what 
that  means  to  us  all?" 

"Aye,  mother  dear,  well  do  I  know  what  a 
strike  means,  but  by  help  of  God,  and  with 
the  powers  he  has  given  me,  I  hope  to  prevent 
such  a  calamity  to  this  settlement." 

"Well  said,  Luke,"  exclaimed  his  gray- 
haired  mother,  putting  her  toil-worn  hands 
upon  her  son's  shoulder  and  looking  her 
encouragement  into  his  clear  eyes,  "said  like 
my  own  dear,  noble  boy,  may  God  bless  you 
and  help  you!" 

"That  He  will,  mother;  and  so  long  as  the 
right  is  clear  to  me,  I  shall  not  flinch  from 


*"The  tariff  contains   many  high   protective   features,  but   it 

lowers  the  duty  on  important  categories  of  iron  and  steel,  and 

from  a  great  number  of  raw  products   it   takes   off  the   duty 
entirely." — Eduard  Suess. 


48          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

doing  it,  nor  falter  to  speak  the  truth  and 
advise  my  fellows  to  abstain  from  doing  that 
which  to  me  is  plainly  wrong." 

"I  was  just  a  little  fearsome,  Luke,  when 
I  learned  late  last  night  that  there  was  much 
discontent,  and  that  Jack  Farnam  and  Worry 
Watson  were  speaking  boldly  against  the  Com 
pany,  and  were  trying  to  stir  up  the  men  for  a 
strike.  Didn't  you  learn  that  things  were 
going  bad  last  night? — you  were  where  these 
things  were  going  on?" 

"Yes,  I  am  well  aware  that  some  mistaken 
fellows  were  working  against  us,  but  I  still 
hope  they  will  fail,  or,  rather,  that  we  shall 
succeed,"  replied  Luke,  musing  upon  the 
scenes  and  thoughts  of  the  past  night. 

"You  say  'us'  and  'we',  Luke;  are  there 
several  who  are  standing  with  you  in  this 
undertaking?"  interrogated  Mrs.  Darrell. 

"Well,  no;  not  exactly,"  observed  the  young 
man,  thinking  that  his  own  zeal  had  led  him 
to  count  himself  a  host  both  as  to  numbers 
and  strength.  "No  only  I  and — well,  mother, 
the  Lord  is  in  this  fight  and  yes,  Dr.  Acton  is 
too;  and  then  I  have  succeeded  in  getting 
the  men  to  listen  to  me,  and  that  means  a 
great  deal  Besides,  I  have  had  a  talk  with 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          49 

Jack  Farnam,  although  it  did  not  have  much 
effect,  and  with  Worry  who  was  a  little  too 
boozy  to  undertsand  what  I  said;  still 
Clarissa — she's  as  true  as  steel  and  the  bright 
est,  prettiest  girl  in  the  settlement, — she 
told  me  that  s"he  did  not  think  her  father 
really  meant  all  he  was  preaching  to  the  men. 
She  heard  what  he  said,  and  then  she  told 
me  that  he  had  made  a  remark  to  her  at 
supper  time — that  was  before  he  got  too  much 
liquor,  (what  a  curse  this  liquor  is!)  but  the 
girl  would  not  say  what  words  the  father 
used." 

"Do  not  be  too  certain  of  your  chances  of 
success,  my  boy;  if  you  could  only  be  off 
today,  while  these  troublesome  ones  are  at 
work  in  the  mines  perhaps  you  could  do  a 
great  deal  with  the  men  on  the  nightshift, 
for  the  trouble  will  come  from  them,  too, 
Luke." 

"Yes,  I  realize  that,  mother,  and  I  have 
thought  of  some  excuse  I  might  have  for 
showing  myself  among  them  today,  but  I 
find  none,  except  that  my  cause  is  a  good  one. 
But,  don't  you  know,  the  fellows  on  the  night- 
shift  would  say  I  was  out  of  place,  and  those 
on  the  day  shift  would  complain  that  I  had 


50          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

deserted  them  to  work  for  the  Company's 
interest,  and  that  might  do  us  more  harm 
than  good, — that  is,  it  would  seem  wrong  to 
them.  A  way  will  be  provided,  never  fear; 
but  there,  goodbye,  I  must  be  going  now," 
said  Luke,  seizing  his  well-filled  dinner  pail 
from  the  table,  and  with  an  affectionate 
wave  of  his  hand  was  gone. 

The  mother  murmured  earnestly,  "God 
bless  you,  my  boy,  and  may  you  be  His  in 
strument  in  warding  off  this  threatening 
calamity,"  and  she  stood  at  her  door,  looking 
out  into  the  faint  early  dawn  in  proud  ad 
miration  of  the  noble,  manly  form. 

The  warning  whistle  sounded,  like  a  trumpet 
calling  the  hosts  of  a  mighty  army,  and  in 
stinctively  Luke  Darrell  hastened  to  join 
his  co-laborers  for  the  descent  to  the  scenes 
of  their  toil.  When  he  arrived  at  the  mouth 
of  the  shaft  two  cages  had  already  carried 
their  burdens  of  human  freight  to  the  depths 
below,  and  a  third  load  was  just  filling 
into  the  car.  Luke  observed  Worry  W'atson 
and  Jack  Farnam  engaged  in  conversation 
with  a  stout  rough  hand,  known  about  the 
works  as  "Burly  Pete",  and  as  he  wished 
that  these  men  should  see  him  eager  for 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          51 

beginning  his  day's  work,  he  pressed  forward 
and  entered  the  cage  along  side  of  these  three 
men.  At  the  instant  that  the  car  began  its 
rapid  downward  flight,  the  angry  mutterings 
of  Jack  Farnam  addressed  to  "Burly  Pete," 

caught  his  ear — "Now  shove  the hard; 

hoist  him  overboard,"  and  before  Luke  could 
gain  a  less  dangerous  position,  he  felt  the 
pressure  of  Burly's  huge  body  against  him, 
and  at  the  same  instant  he  realized  that  Jack 
and  Worry  were  jostling  the  crowded  miners 
as  a  momentous  support  to  their  co-con 
spirator.  In  a  twinkling,  Luke  turned  to 
meet  his  antagonist  and,  seizing  his  arms, 
prevented  Burly  from  getting  a  hold  on  him, 
for  the  purpose  of  hurling  him  from  the  cage. 
At  the  instant  a  signal  was  sent  aloft  that 
something  wrong  had  happened,  and  the 
rapidly  falling  cage  came  to  a  sudden  stop, 
as  the  watchful  engineer  above  responded 
to  the  call.  In  the  stopping  of  the  car  Luke's 
hand,  with  which  he  had  incautiously  laid 
hold  upon  the  chains,  was  fearfully  lacerated. 
When  the  signal  again  went  aloft  that  all  was 
well,  the  cage  continued  its  downward  motion, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  emerged  into  the  faint 
glow  of  artificial  light  below. 


52          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

The  painful  bleeding  hand  of  the  young 
miner  gave  him  sufficient  excuse  to  apply 
to  the  overseer  of  the  shaft  for  leave  to  seek 
surgical  aid,  and,  as  he  reentered  the  cage, 
the  lowering  glances  of  the  three  conspir 
ators  met  his  gaze. 

Once  more  in  the  light  of  day,  young 
Darrell  sought  the  office  of  Dr.  Acton. 

"Come  in,"  said  that  gentleman,  as  Luke 
cautiously  rapped  upon  the  door  of  his  sleep 
ing  room  which  opened  into  his  office.  "Ah, 
come  in,  Mr.  Darrell,  you  find  me  a  late  riser 
this  morning,  but  my  work  kept  me  up  late 
last  night." 

"Fortunately  for  me  then,  for  otherwise 
I  may  not  have  found  you.  'It's  an  ill  wind 
that  blows  nobody  good."5 

"What  is  it,  my  man?  what  can  I  do  for 
you?"  interrupted  Dr.  Acton. 

"First  take  care  of  this,"  faintly  smiled 
Luke  wincing  under  the  very  painful  wound. 

"Why  my  dear  fellow,  what  has  done  this?" 
exclaimed  the  doctor. 

"Providence,  I  believe,"  replied  the  suf 
ferer,  "only  I  guess  he  enlisted  others  to  help 
him." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Darrell?"  asked  Dr.. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          53 

Acton  dropping  into  the  familiarity  of  con 
fidence,  as  he  noticed  the  enigma  expressed 
in  Luke's  words  and  manner. 

Luke  explained  the  occurrence  at  the  mine, 
while  the  doctor  completed  a  hurried  toilet 
and  prepared  to  uncover  his  bleeding  hand. 
The  astonishment  of  the  physician  gave  place 
to  a  knowing  look,  as  the  miner  finished  his 
narrative,  but  he  vouchsafed  no  comment, 
and  at  once  proceeded  to  dress  the  wounds. 

"This  will  give  me  a  great  advantage, 
Doctor,"  observed  Luke,  when  the  last  band- 
dages  where  in  place. 

"How  so,  Darrell?  what  advantage  do  you 
seek?  Of  course  the  men  were  the  cause  of 
your  injury,  but  you  can  hardly  hope  for  their 
undoing  in  revenge." 

"Oh,  no!  I  am  not  seeking  revenge  on 
any  one,  and  least  of  all  upon  Jack  and  Worry; 
as  for  Burly  Pete,  he  was  nothing  but  the  tool 
of  the  others.  The  fact  is,  they  tried  to  'do' 
me,  because  I  am  in  their  way  about  the  strike 
they  are  trying  to  stir  up,  but  now  I  am  free 
to  devote  my  time  against  them — I  guess, 
Doctor,  that  will  be  revenge  enough.  My! 
what  a  providential  accident  this  has  proved," 
continued  Luke  in  self-gratulatory  tones. 


54          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"You  are  a  man  of  strong  faith  in  an  op 
timism,  man;  I  only  hope  you  can  make  good 
use  of  the  leisure  days  this  injury  is  sure  to 
afford  you,  friend  Darrell,"  rejoined  Dr. 
Acton,  bestowing  a  look  of  admiration  upon 
the  man  as  he  mentally  made  an  inventory 
of  the  magnificent  specimen  of  manhood 
before  him. 

Unconsciously  Luke  straightened  his  form 
and  squaring  his  shoulders  lifted  his  good 
right  hand  aloft  as  if  about  to  swear  feal 
ty  to  the  cause  of  humanity  before  the  Eternal 
Tribunal  of  Justice. 

"The  Lord  helping  me,  from  this  hour,  my 
life  shall  be  devoted  to  the  cause  of  these 
poor  devils  against  the  hard  heel  of  unfeeling 
capital,"  solemnly  exclaimed  our  hero. 

"I  have  seen  you  at  the  work  and  heard 
your  words,  and  I  want  to  know  your  plans, 
my  friend,"  interrupted  the  good  Samaritan; 
"you  know  I  am  pledged  to  your  support  in 
your  present  undertaking,  and  I  am  sure  we 
shall  win  if  we  only  join  hands  in  the  matter," 
he  added  as  he  reached  his  own  to  seize  the 
uninjured  hand  of  the  other. 

These  two  friends  then  spent  an  hour  in 
going  over  the  main  points  in  the  course  to 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          55 

be  pursued,  wisely  leaving  details  to  be  filled 
in  as  their  plans  unfolded  under  the  stern 
logic  of  events. 

Luke  then  took  his  way  homeward,  and 
Herbert  Acton  hastened  to  dispatch  a  hurried 
breakfast  preparatory  to  taking  up  the  rounds 
of  his  profession.  While  engaged  at  his  meal, 
his  eyes  wandered  listlessly  over  the  head 
lines  of  the  Philadelphia  Ledger  which  lay  up 
on  the  breakfast  table.  Suddenly  his  atten 
tion  was  arrested  by  the  legend  in  customary 
bold  type— 

ANOTHER  CUT  IN  WAGES, 

SIGNS  OF  DISCONTENT: 

STRIKE  THREATENED  IN  THE 

MOTHER  LODE 

Then  followed  some  facts  garbled  in  usual 
newspaper  fashion  and  painted  in  colors 
suited  to  the  most  fastidious  of  the  morbid 
tastes  to  which  the  journals  of  the  day  are 
wont  to  pander. 

One  of  the  crying  evils  from  which  our 
free  America  most  severely  suffers  is  the  un 
bridled,  licentious  press.  Consider  the  silent 
subtile  power  of  the  press  today  as  it  stands 
opposed  to  every  wrong  of  humanity.  As 


56          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

an  exponent  of  public  opinion,  which  it  in 
turn  moulds  and  quickens,  as  an  arbiter  of 
right,  as  a  shaper  of  thought,  as  the  voice 
of  unrequitted  justice,  the  press  in  America 
stands  supreme.  But  subtile,  indeed,  and 
still  not  silent  is  this  power  when  unrestrained 
in  its  licentiousness!  In  its  immensity  of 
power  and  deep  insinuating  influence  the 
public  press — the  free,  untrammeled  press 
of  America — is  baneful  in  the  last  degree; 
setting  at  naught  the  restraints  that  should 
bind  her,  with  unbound  zone  she  leads  the 
Houris  of  modern  society,  the  demons  of  dis 
loyalty,  and  the  minions  of  disorder  in  their 
mad  dance  to  ruin,  and  meanwhile  scatters 
in  their  route  the  embers  of  unbridled,  im 
petuous  hate  of  class,  and  arrays  rich  against 
poor,  labor  against  capital,  stifling  the  birth 
of  reform,  and  moulding  thought  according 
to  the  dictates  of  power  and  passion. 

Dr.  Acton  read  the  newspaper  article  first 
with  interest  and  amazement,  then  pondered 
its  array  of  facts  (?)  with  disgust,  and  finally 
leaving  his  breakfast  but  half-finished,  he 
folded  the  paper,  carefully  turning  the  hate 
ful,  inflammatory  stuff  inward,  and  im 
mediately  went  to  the  office  of  the  Company. 


CHAPTER  V 

STRENGTH     IN     COUNCIL 
"When  the  strong  congregate,  the  weak  must  combine." 

"We  regret  this  as  much  as  any  one,  Doctor. 
But  we  are  at  the  mercy  of  the  press.  You 
see  the  competition  among .  newspapers  is 
so  great  that  if  one  journal  can  get  at  a  piece 
of  news  first,  and  exploit  it  to  their  taste, 
they  have  what  they  call  a  'scoop'  on  their 
competitors.  We  have  usually  fared  as  well 
with  the  newspapers  as  any  of  the  great  com 
panies  have;  and  there  is  no  question  but 
that  the  intention,  so  far  as  we  are  concerned, 
was  entirely  amicable,  except  that  newspapers 
generally  are  fighting  the  organized  capital 
class  to  which  we  belong.  They  may  also 
have  had  some  kindly  feelings  toward  the 
miners,  and  wished  to  encourage  them 
in  taking  their  own  part,  as  the  strong  boy 
acts  toward  the  small  boy.  But  tell  me  one 
thing  Doctor,  what  do  you  think  of  the  strife 
that  is  going  on  'twixt  labor  and  capital?" 
57 


58          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

And  the  Superintendent  of  the  Mother 
Lode  Mining  Company  removed  the  pince 
nez  from  his  eyes  and  spread  out  the  offen 
sive  newspaper,  which  Dr.  Acton  had  placed 
in  his  hand,  upon  the  table  before  him. 

"There  are  some  disagreeable  facts,  Mr. 
Sumner,"  began  the  doctor,  as  one  would, 
who  sought  to  lay  a  broad  foundation  for 
the  arguments  he  was  about  to  offer;  "facts 
that  neither  the  friends  of  capital  nor  the 
friends  of  labor  will  deny.  There  is  first 
the  fact  that  both  classes  are  most  selfish; 
this  selfishness  leads  to  greed,  and  all  the  sins 
of  avarice  that  flow  from  its  exercise.  I 
am  well  persuaded  that  all  these  property  titles 
and  wage  rates  are  founded  in  selfishness, 
and  it  is,  therefore,  exceedingly  difficult  to 
separate  them  from  this  characteristic  of  the 
human  heart.  Wages  to  be  sure  may  have 
originally  been  a  kind  of  compromise  be 
tween  the  capitalist  and  the  laborer,  but  the 
former  early  became  arrogant,  and  at  first 
chance  dictated  to  labor  the  wage  rates. 
There  should  not  be  any  strife  between  these 
two  great  classes,  but  a  second  disagreeable 
fact,  Mr.  Sumner,  is  that  such  strife  exists 
even  at  times  when  there  is  no  outward  man- 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          59 

ifestation  of  it;  therefore  the  very  existence 
of  such  a  strife  would  suggest  to  the  social 
philosopher,  that  there  is  something  wrong 
in  the  adjustment  of  differences  between  cap 
ital  and  labor;  differences  which  I  fully  be 
lieve,  can  never  be  adjusted  by  tinkering  wage 
rates."* 

"Another  disagreeable  fact  is  this:  both 
capital  and  labor  are  subject  to  influences 
over  which  neither  class  has  any  control; 
or  if  they  could  have  control  to  even  a  small 
degree,  capital  in  its  own  selfish  interest  would 
feel  called  upon  to  offset  that  which  fell  to 
the  laboring  class,  and  vice  versa.  That  is, 
capital  must  compete  with  capital,  and  labor 
with  labor  in  the  open  markets  of  the  world. 

"Now  laborers  may,  in  a  measure,  have 
the  votes  by  reason  of  their  number,  but  cap 
ital  has  the  money  and  directs  legislation, 
and  these  constitute  still  another  array  of 
facts  equally  distasteful,  f 

"Now  if  we  are  content  to  have  the  world 
go  on  in  selfishness,  and  if  we  are  also  will- 

*"Whenever  the  law  has  attempted  to  regulate  the  wages  of 
workmen,  it  has  always  been  rather  to  lower  them  than  to  raise 
them." — Adam  Smith. 

t"  Whenever  the  legislature  attempts  to  regulate  the  differences 
between  masters  and  their  workmen,  its  councellors  are  always 
the  masters." — History  of  Industrial  Legislation. 


60          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

ing  to  look  on  this  strife  which  breeds  dis 
content,  and  wretchedness,  we  may  allow  this 
competitive  system  to  go  on  increasing  misery 
and  giving  birth  to  discord  and  suffering. 
But  I  am  not  so  sure  that  the  lovers  of  human 
ity — and  I  wish  to  be  classed  with  them, 
and  I  believe  you  do  also,  Mr.  Sumner,  as 
I  hope  every  good  man  does — the  lovers  of 
humanity  are  not  going  to  be  content  to  let 
these  conditions  continue.  What  will  ul 
timately  come  of  any  interference  with  the 
workings  of  the  present  competitive  system, 
I  cannot  say,  but  I  have  my  own  views  of 
what  ought  to  be." 

"Do  you  think  in  the  present  case,  Doctor, 
that  the  Mother  Lode  Company  should  tear 
down  its  notices  and  say  to  these  two  thou 
sand  employes  that  it  has  made  a  mistake 
in  posting  a  ten  per  cent  reduction,  and  that 
they  will  make  a  ten  per  cent  raise  in  wages 
instead?" 

"No,  sir,  I  do  not;  frankly,  I  do  not, — un 
less  it  can  make  some  compromise  in  its  own 
and  the  workingman's  interest." 

"And  do  you  imagine  that  such  a  thing 
could  be  done?" 

"That  is  hardly  for  me  to   say,"   rejoined 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          61 

Dr.  Acton.  "I  could  suggest  that  such  a 
course  might  be  followed,  even  in  the  present 
instance;  but,  as  an  employe  of  the  Mother 
Lode  Company,  I  should  hesitate  to  offer 
any  plan  of  mine,  little  as  I  am  acquainted 
with  business  affairs,  at  least  to  you,  the 
Superintendent  and  trusted  official  of  the 
Company." 

"Would  you  kindly  state  your  plan  to  me 
in  my  private  capacity,  if  I  could  give  you 
hearing  at  your  office — say  this  evening?" 
more  than  idle  curiosity  evincing  itself  in 
his  tones  and  manner. 

"Cheerfully,  sir,  cheerfully,"  said  the  doc 
tor  rising  to  take  his  leave.  "I  should  like 
to  invite  with  us  a  gentleman  of  my  acquaint 
ance,  who  is  very  much  interested  in  this 
matter,  Mr.  Sumner,  if  you  have  no  objec 
tion,"  he  continued. 

"No  objection;  none,  I  assure  you,"  re 
sponded  the  Superintendent. 

The  hour  of  the  interview  was  set  for  five 
o'clock,  and  Dr.  Acton  took  up  the  round 
of  his  professional  visits.  He  made  it  a  point  to 
call  at  the  Darrell  cottage  .before  the  noon- 
hour  and  left  word  for  Luke  to  be  sure  to 
meet  him  at  the  office  as  early  as  four-thirty. 


62          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

Luke  Darrell,  when  he  left  the  office  of 
Dr.  Acton  early  in  the  morning,  returned  to 
his  home  to  exchange  his  miner's  dress  for 
clothing  of  a  more  suitable  kind.  When 
Mrs.  Darrell  saw  her  son  entering  the  little 
gate  that  led  to  the  cottage,  she  was  not 
wholly  surprised,  for  she  had  hoped  for, 
and  indeed  half  expected  his  return,  in  order 
that  he  might  take  up  the  work  of  quelling. 
the  rising  storm  now  so  plainly  imminent. 
Therefore  the  mother  met  the  young  man 
at  the  door  with  a  smile,  observing, — 

"Well,  my  boy,  God  has  provided  a  way 
for  you  to  work  in  the  good  cause  today!" 

"Yes,  mother,  Providence  has  certainly 
been  in  this,  in  more  ways  than  one;  if  the 
Lord  had  not  worked  in  His  mysterious 
way,  I  should  still  be  in  the  mine,  either 
dead  or  alive."  And  the  young  man  held 
up  his  injured  hand  to  view. 

"Law,   Luke!"  exclaimed   Mrs.   Darrell. 

"Yes,  mother,  it's  an  ugly  wound,  but  it 
comes  in  very  handy  as  an  excuse  for  me," 
said  the  young  man  prefacing  his  explanation 
with  a  show  of  good  natured  forbearance. 
Then  while  the  mother  listened  in  astonish 
ment,  giving  vent  to  expressions  of  genuine, 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          63 

maternal  sympathy,  the  brave  son  recounted 
the  incident  of  the  morning. 

"And,  now,  mother,"  he  added  at  the  close 
of  his  narrative,  "you  can  help  me  in  remov 
ing  my  jumper  jacket;  for  I  mean  to  take 
off  my  coat  in  this  matter,  both  literally  and 
figuratively." 

Although  the  injured  hand  was  exceedingly 
painful  and  hindered  him  in  his  simple  toilet, 
Luke  was  soon  arrayed  in  a  neat,  but  much 
worn  suit  of  gray  homespun,  and  with  his  arm 
in  a  sling  left  the  house  to  mingle  with  the 
men  of  the  night-shift. 

On  his  way  to  the  busier  part  of  the  settle 
ment  where  he  would  be  likely  to  fall  in  with 
such  as  he  knew,  he  passed  the  door  of  Worry 
Watson's  humble  hut.  Clarissa  was  just 
emerging  upon  the  street,  her  plain  hat  swung 
back  upon  her  shoulders  to  let  the  sunshine 
and  fresh  morning  air  play  upon  her  face  and 
hair. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Darrell;  this  is  a 
beautiful  day,  isn't  it"  cheerfully  greeted 
the  young  girl. 

"Indeed,  it  is,  Miss;  and  you  seem  as  bright 
as  the  day,  Clarissa,"  gallantly  rejoined  the 
miner. 


64          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"You  are  always  bestowing  compliments, 
Mr.  Darrell." 

"I  always  endeavor  to  speak  the  truth  when 
it  is  of  so  pleasant  a  nature,  Miss  Clarissa," 
smiling,  "and  this  fine  day  makes  me  feel  like 
paying  compliments  to  everybody  and  every 
thing;  I  hope  I  have  not  offended  you, Clarissa." 
And  Luke  looked  into  her  sweet,  smiling  eyes 
to  read,  if  possible,  his  answer  there. 

"No  offense,  Luke;  for  I  am  sure  you  in 
tended  none.  What  news  of  the  threatened 
strike,  Mr.  Darrell?  Why,  what  have  you 
done?  Have  you  hurt  your  arm,  Luke?" 
she  asked,  spying  for  the  first  time  the  dis 
abled  member. 

"My  hand  only,  Miss,"  corrected  the  young 
man;  "I  carelessly  laid  hold  of  the  chains  of 
our  car  this  morning,  and  a  sudden  stopping 
lacerated  it  pretty  badly.  You  see,  it  converts 
a  hard-working  coal-miner  into  a  gentlemen 
of  leisure." 

"Oh!  how  unfortunate!  I  hope  it  is  not 
painful.  Oh!  these  sad,  sad  accidents;  there 
have  been  so  many  poor  fellows  killed  or  in 
jured  in  the  mines  lately.  Did  you  hear 
about  the  break  in  the  Black  Diamond  shaft 
yesterday;  several  men  were  hurt,  some  with 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          65 

bruises  and  some  with  broken  limbs;  Mark 
Waring  was  the  name  of  one  of  the  men; 
Doctor  Acton  was  obliged  to  amputate  his 
right  arm,  it  was  so  frightfully  mangled." 

"No,  I  had  not  heard  of  the  accident — how 
very,  very  sad!  And  poor  Mark!  He  was 
a  good  honest  fellow;  it  will  be  a  sorry  blow 
to  the  man.  I  shall  probably  have  time, 
now  that  I  can't  work,  to  visit  him  when 
he  is  strong  enough  to  bear  it.  Where  is  he 
now?  at  his  home,  or  did  they  take  him  to 
the  hospital?" 

"Neither,  for  they  thought  best  not  to  move 
him  so  far  as  the  hospital,  and  no  one  knew 
where  he  lived.  He  is  at  the  cottage  yonder; 
I  am  going  there  now  to  help  the  doctor  dress 
his  injuries.  If  he  can  bear  it,  I  shall  tell 
him  what  you  say,  for  it  may  cheer  him  to 
hear  it." 

"Do,  Clarissa;  and  say  that  he  must  not 
worry  over  his  loss;  we  will  make  it  up  to 
him  somehow,"  offered  Luke.  Clarrissa  won 
dering  who  was  meant  by  "we",  but  she  si 
lently  resolved  to  be  one  of  them. 

"Good  morning,  and  God  bless  you,  Clarissa," 
bade  the  miner,  touching  his  hat  respectfully, 
and  the  girl  called  back  a  sweet,  cheery  reply 


66          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

as  their  paths  parted  and  she  hurried  on  her 
mission  of  mercy,  while  the  great,  strong  man 
also  quickened  his  strides,  encouraged  im 
measurably  by  the  new  bonds  of  sympathy 
between  the  speakers. 

Luke  Darrell  found  many  favorable  op 
portunities  to  plant  the  seeds  of  good  among 
the  men  who  in  the  light  of  day  were  dis 
posed  to  listen  and  were  less  troublesome  than 
thecrowdsof  the  night  previous.  But  we  leave 
such  details  as  the  reader  should  know  to 
the  report  of  his  morning's  work,  which  our 
hero  gave  in  Dr.  Acton's  office,  where  he 
promptly  repaired  in  accordance  with  the 
Doctor's  invitation. 

"Yes,  Doctor,  it  has  been  a  good  morn 
ing's  work;  and  to  think  that  this." — patting 
gently  upon  his  bandaged  hand,  "has  been 
the  means  of  getting  a  hearing  from  many 
a  fine  fellow." 

"And  you  still  think  that  Providence 
brought  this  injury,  Luke?"  asked  the  good 
Doctor,  with  a  pleasing  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"Yes,  Sir!"  promptly  and  emphatically 
replied  Luke.  "Now  there  was  Simpson; 
last  night  I  could  not  get  a  word  in  edgewise; 
he  was  all  strike,  strike,  strike;  but  this 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          67 

morning,  I  went  to  him  and  had  a  good 
chat  with  him,  and  showed  him  that  if  the 
men  should  strike  he  could  count  on  los 
ing  one  good  week's  business  and  perhaps 
two,  or  even  a  month.  Simpson  can  best 
be  touched  on  the  score  of  his  own  selfish 
interests,  and,  while  I  despise  such  motives, 
yet  we  must  use  the  selfish  part  of  a  man's 
nature  for  the  good  of  our  cause.  Don't 
you  think  so,  Doctor?"  concluded  the  ear 
nest  miner. 

"Yes,  I  do,  and  indeed,  while  we  are  in 
this  work  to  fight  selfishness,  I  am  convinced 
that  the  only  way  we  can  befriend  Satan 
is  to  fight  him  with  fire,"  answered  the  doc 
tor,  speaking  somewhat  in  rhetorical  fig 
ures. 

"You  are  right,  sir;  that  is  about  the 
only  thing  that  will  touch  a  corporation's 
heart,  if  you  will  admit  for  the  sake  of  ar 
gument,  that  a  great  company  has  a  heart. 
But  to  continue  my  report  of  the  day's  work. 
I  succeeded  in  capturing  two  good  sized 
crowds  this  afternoon  who  were  still  dis 
cussing  the  reduction,  and  when  I  left  them 
nearly  all  felt  that,  if  a  compromise  could 
be  effected  with  the  Mother  Lode,  they  would 


68          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

give  over  any  attempt  to  strike.  In  fact, 
Doctor,  the  thought  of  holding  out  against 
the  Company  was  made  rather  distasteful 
to  them,  and  I  doubt  if  the  'movers'  will 
have  an  easy  time  in  winning  some  of  them 
over,  although  the  feeling  is  very  strong 
against  the  reduction." 

"What  appears  to  be  your  most  telling 
argument,  Mr.  Darrell?"  asked  Dr.  Acton, 
contemplatively,  when  the  narrator  halted 
in  his  account. 

"Well,  to  sum  it  all  up,  I'm  thinking  that 
the  argument  that  in  a  'strike'  both  par 
ties  must  lose,  but  that  the  working-man 
never  recovers  his  loss,  while  the  employer 
only  grinds  him  the  lower  to  make  up  the 
loss  to  capital.  Of  course,  I  realize  that  the 
Company  gets  no  sympathy  from  the  men, 
but  the  item  of  feeling  for  others  is  best 
handled,  I  find,  by  appealing  to  their  love 
for  their  families;  that  goes  right  home." 

"Now,  as  it  is  nearly  five  o'clock,  I  will 
explain  that  I  have  asked  you  here,  Luke, 
to  meet  Mr.  Sumner,  the  Company's  Sup 
erintendent,  with  whom  I  have  an  appoint 
ment  at  that  hour,"  ventured  the  Doc 
tor.  "I  went  to  see  him  this  morning  with 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          69 

only  half  a  breakfast,  for  I  found  this  scrap 
in  the  Ledger,  shortly  after  you  left  me. 
Read  it;  don't  that  make  bad  enough  mat 
ters  worse,  Mr.  Darrell?"  shoving  toward 
him  the  noisome  journal. 

"Yes,  the  men  were  saying,  that  we  had 
got  into  the  papers,  but  I  paid  little  atten 
tion  to  the  fact; — only  to  the  degree  that 
it  spurred  me  up  a  little  in  what  I  had  to 
say.  But  what  will  be  the  nature  of  your 
interview  with  Mr.  Sumner,  may  I  ask?" 
And  Luke  leisurely  read  the  article  offered, 
while  Dr.  Acton  entered  into  a  summary 
of  the  talk  in  the  Superintendent's  office, 
and  made  clear  the  possible  outcome  of 
a  conference. 

"Now  we  must  endeavor  to  shape  this 
interview,  Luke,  in  such  a  way  as  to  make 
the  most  of  our  opportunity,  and  then,  if 
the  gentleman  can  be  prevailed  upon  to 
undertake  mediation,  let  us  hope  for  the 
realization  of  our  purposes  to  'defend  Sat 
an',  as  the  men  are  wont  to  call  the  Com 
pany  (or,  rather,  all  organized  capital) 
for  it  is  in  preserving  the  Mother  Lode's 
interests  that  we  are  serving  these  poor  fel 
lows  who  eke  out  an  existence  in  their  works." 


70          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"We  will  put  on  the  whole  armor,  Dr. 
Acton,  and  may  the  Lord  both  of  capital 
and  labor  give  us  the  strength  to  fight." 

The  two  men  clasped  each  the  other's 
hand  and  were  interrupted  at  that  mo 
ment  by  the  approach  of  Mr.  Sumner.  As 
he  entered  the  physician's  office,  he  was 
kindly  greeted  by  Acton  and  at  once  in 
troduced  to  the  Doctor's  ally. 

The  Superintendent  of  the  Mother  Lode 
Mining  Company  was  a  little  surprised '  to 
find  that  the  Doctor's  friend  was  perhaps 
no  other  than  a  plain  coal-miner  from  his 
own  works,  but  Ralph  Sumner  was  too 
much  of  a  gentleman  to  hesitate  in  taking 
a  friendly  grasp  of  the  miner's  big,  rough  hand; 
neither  did  he  fail  to  make  note  of  the  fact 
that  he  had  but  one  shakeable  hand,  nor 
that  the  looks  and  manner  of  the  man  be 
trayed  a  breeding  of  which  any  gentleman 
might  be  proud. 

As  Mr.  Sumner's  eyes  looked  questionly 
at  the  bandaged  hand,  Dr.  Acton  explained, 
"Mr  Darrell  calls  that  pet  of  his  a  gift  of 
Providence,  Mr.  Sumner." 

"How  can  that  be?  Isn't  that  rather 
straining  a  point,  Mr.  Darrell?"  but  Luke 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          71 

modestly  refrained  from  gratifying  the  Su 
perintendent's  curiosity,  and  Dr.  Acton  vol 
unteered  to  make  clear  the  miner's  view  of 
the  disaster. 

"And  so  you  are  combatting  the  strike 
movement,  Mr.  Darrell?"  asked  Mr.  Sumner, 
eyeing  the  man  closely,  perhaps  a  linger- 
gering  suspicion  suggesting  some  ulterior 
motive  on  the  part  of  the  Company's  hum 
ble  champion. 

"In  my  own  feeble  way,  sir,  although 
I  believe  that  the  Lord  and  Dr.  Acton  are 
on  my  side,"  responded  Luke  heartily. 

"Well,  I  must  say  you  have  trusty  allies, 
Mr.  Darrell,"  laughed  the  Superintendent. 
"And  why  have  you  undertaken  such  a 
difficult  and  possibly  thankless  job,  may  I 
ask?"  he  continued. 

"Because  I  fully  believe  that  it  can  be 
nobody's  gain  if  the  men  should  strike; 
and  besides  it  is  possible  for  one  in  a  middle 
position  to  see  both  ways;  the  Company 
is  saved  from  loss,  and  the  workmen  get 
better  wages." 

"But  do  you  count  upon  no  personal  gain 
or  advantage?"  again  questioned  Mr.  Sumner. 

"No!"   as   he   thought   he   detected   a   dis- 


72          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

position  to  impugn  his  motives, — "yes,  I 
do!"  he  corrected,  with  a  ring  of  sincerity 
in  his  voice.  "First  I  gain  the  peace  that 
comes  from  doing  right,  and  the  advan 
tage  which  always  succeeds  the  promul 
gation  of  truth,  Mr.  Sumner." 

The  Superintendent  pondered  this  frank 
declaration  of  the  plain  straight-forward  man 
of  toil  with  an  expression  of  wonder  and 
admiration.  He  was  brought  face  to  face 
with  a  fact,  the  existence  of  which  he  would 
have  been  slow  to  recognize  before, — that 
disinterested  loyalty,  and  knightly  courage 
dwelt  side  by  side  in  the  breast  of  a  laborer 
in  the  lowest  level  of  his  Company's  ser 
vice.  But  here  it  was — plainly  stamped 
upon  the  personal  character  and  ingen 
uous  utterances  of  Luke  Darrell;  the  man 
who,  while  suffering  bodily  pain  and  loss 
of  wages  on  account  of  his  injury,  yet  count 
ed  it  a  favor  to  employ  his  idleness  from 
the  work  of  earning  his  daily  bread  to  the 
duty,  as  he  understood  it,  of  defending 
the  interests  of  both  capital  and  labor.  And 
was  this  the  "gentleman"  Dr.  Acton  had  asked 
him  to  meet;  well,  the  doctor  was  right, 
he  was  a  gentleman  in  the  best  and  high- 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          73 

est  sense  of  the  term!  And  the  man  of 
authority^  bowed  his  own  feeble  claims 
to  a  similar  coveted  distinction  to  the  su 
periority  of  this  humblest  of  his  subjects. 

"I  am  very  desirous,  gentlemen,  of  get 
ting  the  views  of  the  leading  men  in  this 
community,  as  to  the  best  course  to  be  pur 
sued  in  the  present  case.  You  will  under 
stand,  therefore,  Doctor,  that  I  am  actuated 
more  by  a  real  interest  than  by  curiosity 
in  seeking  this  conference.  I  am  glad,  too, 
that  I  have  the  pleasure  and  opportunity 
of  meeting  Mr.  Darrell  also."  And  the 
Superintendent  addressed  the  gentlemen  in 
turn. 

"Mr.  Sumner,  you  will  pardon  me — per 
haps  I  should  say  'us',  for  I  speak  for  you, 
Mr.  Darrell,  do  I  not? — you  will  pardon 
us  if  we  appear  to  show  a  deep  interest  in 
the  affairs  of  the  Company's  employes  and 
at  the  same  time  presume  to  offer  words 
of  advice  to  you  who  represent  the  Company. 
We  feel  that  the  interests  of  both  the  cap 
ital  class  to  which  we  will  say  you  belong 
and  the  interests  of  the  laboring  class, 
to  which  Luke  belongs,  are  inter-depen 
dent.  In  the  present  state  of  society  it  is 


74          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

impossible  to  combine  both  in  one  person. 
Should  Mr.  Darrell  here,  for  instance,  be 
come  possessed  of  considerable  wealth,  it 
is  difficult  to  suppose  that  he  would  not 
exchange  his  present  calling  for  one  in  which 
his  wealth  would  tend  at  least  to  assist  his 
labors — he  would  become  in  part  if  not 
wholly,  a  capitalist.  Now  if  we  remem 
ber  that  his  ability  to  rise  in  the  scale  of 
the  business  world  depended  upon  his  own 
labor  first,  and  later  and  altogether  up 
on  the  labor  of  others,  is  there  any  good  reason 
why  as  capitalist,  he  should  abuse  or  neg 
lect  to  conserve  the  highest  interests  of 
the  toilers  upon  whom  his  capital  fabric 
rests?" 

"I  think  your  meaning  is  clear,  Doctor," 
said  Mr.  Sumner,  as  Dr.  Acton  paused  to 
observe  the  effect  of  his  utterances. 

"Now,  if  each  and  every  employe  of  a 
company  could  be  made  to  feel,  that  he 
had  more  than  the  mere  interest  of  his  daily 
wages,  but  somehow  depending  upon  his 
labor  in  the  company's  welfare,  they  would 
rise  by  their  own  effort  to  an  abiding  faith 
in  the  just  and  equitable  relation  in  which 
they  stand  toward  organized  capital;  they 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          75 

would  be  an  organic  part  of  capital;  they 
would  recognize  the  necessity  of  cooperat 
ing  to  secure  the  highest  results  to  be  de 
rived  from  a  joint  investment;  they  would 
hail  with  acclaim  the  success  of  either  arm 
of  the  powerful  combination,  and  then  we 
may  also  predict  what  would  follow.'"1 
And  the  man  of  profession  again  hesitated, 
as  it  were  to  allow  his  words  to  gain  due 
weight  before  taking  the  measure  of  his 
thoughts. 

"Proceed,  Doctor,  your  talk  is  fast  be 
coming  very  interesting,"  encouraged  the 
Superintendent. 

"Thus,  instead  of  antagonizing  labor,  cap 
ital  would  be  giving  it  wholesome  encour 
agement,  and  in  place  of  striking  at  the 
downfall  of  capital,  labor  would  be  uphold 
ing  and  augumenting  it;  no  longer  enemies 
they  are  allies;  greed  and  grind  would  give 
place  to  co-operative  methods;  time-serv 
ing  and  grudging  toil  would  transform  into 
cheerful  and  painstaking  service. 

"I  observed  this  morning  that  the  exist- 
tence  of  strife  was  an  indication  that  there 


*"The  wages  of  labor  vary  according  to  the  small    or    great 
trust  which  must  be  reposed  in  the  workman." — Wealth  of  Nations. 


76          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

is  something  wrong  in  the  relation  between 
these  two  great  factors  of  business — it  is 
an  unmistakable  evidence,  let  me  add,  and 
the  work  of  the  social  philosopher  is  plain 
ly  to  find  the  causes  and  the  remedy;  it  is 
the  duty  of  the  business  economist  to  ad 
just  the  differences  and  apply  the  remedy. 
May  I  state  what  appear  to  me  are  the 
causes,  Mr.  Sumner?" 

"Go  on,  go  on,  I  think  you  must  do  so, 
if  you  can;  your  case  certainly  demands 
it,  Dr.  Acton,"  said  Mr.  Sumner  earnestly. 

"The  causes  of  the  widening  gulf  be 
tween  the  two  great  factors  in  the  economy 
of  the  business  world — factors  which  by 
nature  are  as  mutually  inter-dependent  as 
the  factors  of  any  mathematical  expression — 
are:  First,  blind  greed  which  prevents  each 
from  seeing  the  value  to  itself  of  the  other; 
second,  competition  where  we  should  have 
cooperation;  third,  interference  and  thought 
less  neglect  instead  of  caring  for  each  other; 
wanton  waste  and  social  leprosy — if  I  may 
be  permitted  to  use  so  strong  a  term — con 
stitute  the  fourth  class.  Now  as  to  the 
remedies,  gentlemen;  but  understand  that 
I  do  not  prescribe  drugs  for  social  disorders, 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          77 

as  I  might  for  bodily  ailments, — fearless 
ly;  since  the  remedies  for  the  former,  do 
not  have  the  empirical  and  scientific  status 
of  those  of  the  latter.  Nevertheless  it  is 
plain,  that  changes  in  the  social  system, 
which  will  remove  the  causes  of  evil,  must 
per  se  be  beneficial." 

"Name  them;  I  think  I  could  come  near 
to  naming  some  of  them  myself,"  inter 
rupted  the  Company's  representative. 

"Well,  sir,  go  as  far  as  you  can;  I  am  sure 
you  have  already  given  this  great  question 
much  valuable  thought,  Mr.  Sumner,"  said 
the  physician. 

"Very  well  then,"  began  Mr.  Sumner, 
"you  would  remove  the  first  cause  by  ed 
ucating  both  labor  and  capital  to  a  more 
altruistic  spirit;  for  the  second  cause  you 
would  substitute  cooperation  for  competi 
tion;  the  third  would  be  treated  by  paying 
a  wholesome  regard  for  the  conditions  sur 
rounding  both  classes;  and  the  fourth-class 
of  the  causes  you  called  'wanton  waste  and 
social  leprosy';  there  I  must  wait  until  you 
have  made  clear  to  me  what  you  mean  by 
these  terms." 

"Much  of    the  'wanton  waste'    is    remov- 


78          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

ed  by  the  application  of  remedies  in  the 
other  cases,  just  as  the  feeling  of  nausea 
and  pain  in  the  head  are  removed  by  cor 
recting  a  disordered  stomach.  Those  things 
that  are  of  the  'leprosy'  order,  which  are 
the  debauching  by  drink,  gambling,  and 
their  train  of  evils,  may  in  part  be  removed 
by  substituting  other  and  better  appetites 
and  pursuits,  pursuits  that  enhance  the  value 
of  the  wealth  producing  factor  in  the  as 
sumed  relation.  I  would  strike  down  every 
gin-mill  and  grog  shop;  stop  every  gambling 
device  by  substituting  a  health-giving  in 
terest  in  the  community  business,  which 
would  necessarily  absorb  the  energies  com 
monly  found  spending  themselves  at  the 
gaming  table.  I  am  sure  that  better  schools, 
more  libraries,  attractive  parks;  athletic  and 
other  contests  which  would  tend  to  build 
up  both  the  bodies  and  minds;  encouraging 
taste  in  the  dwellings  and  grounds  of  the 
cottagers,  and  putting  a  premium  upon 
cleanliness  and  health,  instead  of  winking 
at  squalor  and  wretchedness,  will  do  more 
to  heal  social  leprosy  than  any  other  rem 
edies." 

"Right,    sir,    quite    right,    Doctor,    I    agree 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          79 

with  you  in  the  main,  if  not  altogether  in 
what  you  have  said;  but  ah,  the  application 
of  all  these  remedies.  A  social  Paracelsus,  in 
deed,  would  find  all  he  could  do  in  that  field; 
and  alas!  how  is  all  this  to  be  accomplished?" 

"By  earnest  devotion  to  the  work,  Mr. 
Sumner,  not  all  at  once;  and  a  beginning 
made  now  may  find  its  full  fruition  only 
in  the  last  years  of  the  twentieth  century; 
but  you,  and  I,  and  all  of  us  have  our  duty 
to  humanity,  and  may  even  see  some  fruits 
in  our  day.  How  long,  indeed,  has  the 
Savior  of  Man  waited  for  the  millenium  of 
His  glory,  and  yet  even  in  His  day  the  Voice 
in  the  wildneress  cried,  'The  Kingdom  of 
Heaven  is  at  hand'.  So,  too,  the  reign  of 
a  better  day  and  the  decline  of  the  strife 
between  capital  and  labor  is  at  hand;  it  is 
at  our  very  door,"  and  Dr.  Acton  leaned 
forward  in  the  earnestness  of  his  manner. 

The  three  men  sat  in  a  contemplative  mood 
for  some  minutes,  perhaps  moved  by  the 
weight  of  Dr.  Acton's  thoughts  and  the 
earnestness  of  his  manner.  Luke's  face  beamed 
with  satisfaction  while  the  Superintendent's  be 
trayed  sensibly  the  anxiety  and  interest  which 
he  felt.  The  latter  was  first  to  break  the  silence. 


80          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"Mr.  Darrell,  does  it  appear  that  the  men 
are  likely  to  cause  us  trouble  over  the  cut 
in  wages?  I  would  so  much  like  to  know 
what  you  think;  I  believe  I  understand 
what  your  fellings  are." 

"Trouble  is  threatened,  sir,"  said  Luke, 
"but  we  have  some  hopes  of  preventing  it. 
Do  you  think,  sir,  that  the  Company  would 
make  a  modification  of  its  order  of  a  re 
duction,  if  it  could  be  shown  that  it  would 
be  to  their  advantage?" 

"That,  I  think,  is  most  likely;  but  I  am 
equally  sure  that  the  reduction  is  not  a 
mere  arbitrary  act;  it  has  been  ordered 
only  after  a  very  careful  examination  into 
the  condition  of  the  Company's  business; 
all  of  their  affairs  have  been  gone  over  by 
experts,  and  data  bearing  upon  the  state 
of  affairs  have  been  collected  from  every 
available  source." 

"Still,  if  it  could  be  shown,  Mr.  Sumner, 
that  a  cut  of  ten  per  cent  on  wages  would 
tend  to  complicate  matters,  and  that  to  aban 
don  their  purpose  would  in  the  end  increase 
the  Company's  chances  of  prosperity,  don't 
you  think  they  would  come  to  consider  a 
compromise?"  said  the  workingman  earnestly. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          81 

"Let  me  ask  you  a  question  before  re 
turning  a  reply  to  this  one,"  said  Mr.  Sumner 
cautiously.  "I  should  like  to  ask  one  that 
I  put  to  Dr.  Acton  this  morning." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Sumner,"  joined  in  the  doctor, 
"I  should  like  Mr.  Darrell  to  give  his 
answer  to  that  question,  too." 

"My  question  was  this:  Do  you  think 
that  the  Company  should  tear  down  its 
notices  and  inform  its  employes  that  it  will 
not  make  the  reduction?" 

"No,  that  would  not  be  justice  to  itself, 
perhaps,  and  it  certainly  would  not  be  good 
policy, — unless — "  and  Luke  hesitated  to 
name  the  alternative!  But  the  Superinten 
dent  waited. 

"Unless  a  compromise  could  be  effected 
whereby  the  miners  could  be  made  to  de 
rive  some  advantage  and  the  Mother  Lode 
saved  from  loss,"  continued  he,  as  Mr.  Sumner 
evinced  a  desire  for  him  to  finish  his  sentence. 

"You  speak  of  a  compromise,  and  of  con 
serving  the  interests  of  the  miners,  and  sav 
ing  the  loss  of  the  Company.  How  are 
these  things  to  be  done?  What  compro 
mise  do  you  gentlemen  propose,  for  I  be 
gin  to  imagine  that  you  have  formed  a  little 


82          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

combination  against  the  Mother  Lode?" 
and  the  Company's  manager  smiled  pleasantly. 

"We  hope,  Mr.  Sumner,  to  secure  a  truce: 
first,  by  preventing  a  strike;  second,  by  get 
ting  a  hearing  with  the  directors  of  the  Com 
pany;  if  this  much  succeeds  we  trust  to  be 
able  to  convince  both  the  workingmen  and 
the  corporation  that  an  end  may  be  made 
to  further  trouble."  It  was  Dr.  Acton  who 
spoke,  and  Luke  simply  nodded  compliance. 

"But  what  are  your  plans  for  the  accom 
plishment  of  so  desirable  a  state  of  affairs?" 
The  Superintendent's  question  was  punc 
tuated  by  a  distant  shout  in  the  settlement 
without,  followed  by  a  prolonged  roar. 

"What  noise  is  that?"  exclaimed  Dr. 
Acton  in  alarm.  The  manager  looked  anx 
iously  at  the  two  men,  but  Luke  remained 
passively  silent;  all  listened. 

The  roar  gradually  increased,  and  seemed 
like  the  howl  of  wild  beasts,  who  were  ap 
proaching  as  if  bent  on  closing  upon  their 
prey.  Luke  stepped  to  the  door  of  the  phy 
sician's  office  and  opening  it  cautiously 
looked  out  into  the  fast  gathering  darkness. 
He  quickly  closed  the  door  and  turning 
quietly  spoke  to  his  anxious  companions. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          83 

"I  fear  the  men  of  the  day-shift  are  try 
ing  to  prevent  some  of  the  night-shift  from 
returning  to  the  mines;  if  so,  I  imagine  there 
will  be  some  trouble  ahead." 

"What  is  to  be  done  in  that  case?"  anx 
iously  enquired  Dr.  Acton,  turning  to  Mr. 
Sumner. 

"Nothing  can  be  done;  the  Company  al 
ways  advises  non-interference  in  these  cases, 
until  a  menace  to  property  is  imminent; 
by  that  time  we  can  have  some  among  the 
miners,  even,  to  help  us  prevent  such  overt 
acts.  There  are  some  law-abiding  men  al 
ways  to  be  found  even  among  the  lowest." 

"If  I  may  suggest — ,"  interposed  Luke 
with  an  entreating  look  toward  his  superior, 
"it  is  possible  to  turn  the  tide  favorably, 
even  now." 

"Speak,  man,  speak!"  said  Mr.  Sumner, 
both  anxiety  and  authority  plainly  discern- 
able  in  his  tones  and  manner. 

"Let  me  go  among  the  men;  in  a  few  mo 
ments  I  can  get  the  attention  of  the  peace 
ably  disposed,  and  with  the  leavening  this 
will  give,  the  rest  might  be  quieted.  You 
and  the  Doctor,  here,  had  best  come  up  a 
little  later,  but  you  must  take  no  hand  un- 


84          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

til  I  give  you  the  word.  I  will  go  at  once; 
you  may  follow  and  keep  me  well  in  sight;" 
and  with  that  the  miner  seized  his  hat  and 
was  gone. 


CHAPTER  VI 

PENT  FIRES 

"If  masters  would  always  listen  to  the  dictates  of 
reason  and  humanity,  they  have  frequently  occasion 
rather  to  moderate,  than  to  animate  the  application 
of  many  of  their  workmen." 

— Adam  Smith's  Wealth  of  Nations. 

Jack  Farnam  and  Worry  Watson  had 
gone  to  work  that  morning  with  a  double 
purpose.  They  knew  that  the  parts  of 
the  underground  passages  where  the  men 
were  employed  had  been  almost  worked 
out,  and  only  'pickings'  were  to  be  had  here  and 
there.  This  gave  them  the  desired  op 
portunity  for  plying  their  purpose  of 
inciting  their  fellow  laborers  to  join  in  mak 
ing  trouble  for  their  employers.  The  bosses 
were  almost  wholly  engaged  in  making  prep 
arations  for  opening  up  new  runs,  and 
some  few  of  the  diggers  were  engaged  on 
work  of  this  kind.  Thus  it  was  that  the 
leaders  and  those  whom  they  could  enlist 
with  them  from  time  to  time,  managed 
85 


86 


to  approach  many  of  the  men  as  they  worked, 
now  here,  now  there,  or  awaited  the  tardy 
return  of  a  car — as  tracks  were  being  moved 
and  cars  were  used  to  haul  rails  and  timbers 
for  the  new  drifts. 

As  a  result  of  their  labors  in  this  behalf, 
it  was  made  possible  for  a  preliminary  de 
monstration  on  the  part  of  the  miners,  which 
was  to  take  the  form  of  a  protest  to  and  a 
possible  interference  with  the  descent  of  the 
night-shift  to  the  scenes  of  their  labors. 
It  happened  that  when  the  first  cage-load 
ascended  to  the  surface  it  contained  Jack 
and  Worry  and  several  others  who  had 
consented  to  act  as  lieutenants  to  them. 
These,  immediately  on  leaving  the  car, 
prevented  the  men  from  filling  in  for  the  de 
scent,  and  it  was  some  time  before  enough 
resolute  fellows  were  found  to  stem  the  tide 
of  disfavor  to  make  up  the  requisite  load. 
The  cause  of  delay  called  for  explanation 
to  those  kept  below  and  was  sufficient  to 
rouse  the  more  timid  men  of  the  day-shift 
to  take  their  stand  by  the  side  of  the  re 
bellious  men  when  they,  too,  came  to  the 
light  of  day  The  opposition  to  the  night- 
shift,  therefore  rapidly  increased',  and  only 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          87 

a  few  cars  had  gone  below,  when  the  tu 
mult  began  to  manifest  itself  in  loud  shouts 
and  prolonged  cheers  for  the  growing  suc 
cess  of  their  undertaking.  These  were  the 
sounds  that  came  rolling  over  the  settle 
ment  and  so  suddenly  terminated  the  con 
ference  in  Dr.  Acton's  office. 

When  Luke  Darrell,  therefore,  appeared 
on  the  scene,  after  a  lively  run,  breath 
less,  but  calm,  a  glance  at  the  situation 
told  him  that  his  surmises  had  been  cor 
rect.  The  distance,  though  not  more  than 
a  quarter  of  a  mile,  had  given  him  time  to 
outline  his  plan  of  attack  sufficiently  to 
put  him  entirely  at  his  ease  and  make  him 
master  of  the  situation.  In  dealing  with 
men  wHo  are  influenced  by  passion,  or  act 
ing  under  the  impulse  of  sudden  alarm, 
nothing  succeeds  so  well  as  calmness  and 
perfect  self-control  on  the  part  of  one  who 
would  sway  them  from  their  immediate 
purpose.  Luke  was  known  to  many  of  the 
men  in  the  settlement,  and  held  their  res 
pect  and  esteem.  He  knew  he  could  count 
on  getting  a  hearing,  if  he  could  but  se 
cure  their  attention  for  a  single  moment. 
To  do  this  he  knew  that  his  voice  would  be  of 


88          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

little  use  in  the  din,  while  the  gathering  da'rfc- 
ness  made  it  almost  as  difficult  to  call  at 
tention  through  the  eye.  He  had  weighed 
all  these  chances,  and  had  with  equ&l  read 
iness  settled  upon  his  course.  The  one 
chance  of  success  depended  upon  a  resolute 
and  determined  plan.  Going  directly  to 
the  man  in  charge  of  the  donkey  engine 
he  pushed  him  resolutely  aside,  and  be 
fore  the  engineer  could  recover  from  his  as 
tonishment,  Luke  seized  the  signal  cord  and 
hastily  sounded  three  sharp  whistles. 

The  startling  shrieks  rang  out  upon  the 
night,  and  echoed  from  the  eastern  hills 
of  the  valley,  like  the  dread  alarm  of  fire 
in  a  great  city.  This  was  the  first  of  a  se 
ries  of  signals  announcing  fire  in  the  mines; 
the  second  signal,  which  was  a  long  blast, 
did  not  follow,  but  the  miners  immediate 
ly  stopped  their  cries,  and  a  deep,  expect 
ant  hush  fell  upon  all  around.  This  was 
Luke's  moment  of  opportunity,  and  as  all 
eyes  were  instantly  turned  toward  the  en 
gine  house,  he  quickly  appeared  at  the  door, 
and  mounting  a  bench  that  stood  at  hand, 
he  called  to  the  men. 

"If    there    had    really    been    a    fire    below, 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          89 

fellows,  you  would  have  sympathized  with 
the  poor  devils  that  might  be  caught  in 
such  a  trap,  but,  thank  God,  it  was  only 
a  mistake." 

A  low  murmur  of  applause  greeted  this 
explanation,  and  the  relief  felt  by  these 
rough,  sympathetic  men  supplied  the  open 
door  to  their  minds  and  hearts,  which  the 
speaker  required. 

"Listen  to  me  just  a  moment;  I  am  here 
as  you  see  with  only  one  hand  fit  for  use, 
but  it  is  my  right  hand  and  is  still  strong 
to  serve  you,  and  you  know  that  I  am  the 
friend  of  every  man  among  you." 

Another  cheer  was  the  greeting  to  this 
outburst  of  their  comrade's  loyalty. 

"Whatever  we  do  must  be  done  decently 
and  in  order,"  continued  Luke,  taking  his 
hat  in  hand  as  a  mark  of  respect  to  his  mot 
ley  audience.  "First,  let  us  understand  that 
there  are  men  here  who  want  to  do  right 
and  continue  their  work  in  the  mines;  and 
it  would  be  unfair  to  prevent  them  from  fol 
lowing  their  own  inclinations  and  of  earn 
ing  their  day's  wages.  I  know  that  many 
of  you  expect  by  this  act,  to  injure  the  Com 
pany;  but  we  all  know  that  the  scattering 


90          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

lumps  of  coal  down  there  in  the  mines  can 
wait  for  you  without  costing  the  Mother 
Lode  a  dollar;  you  would  be  the  only  losers, 
if  you  neglect  to  go  below,  and  it  is  an  act 
of  folly  to  refuse!"  Murmurs  of  appro 
bation  interrupted  these  remarks,  and  the 
sturdy  fellow  continued. 

"Many  of  you  have  heard  what  I  have 
urged  during  the  past  twenty-four  hours, 
and  my  voice  is  still  for  peace;  and  I  am  here 
to  pledge  you  my  strong  right  hand  for  any 
measure  that  will  help  you  in  the  present 
dark  outlook.  Have  you  ever  had  cause 
to  doubt  my  word,  men?"  exclaimed  he 
with  a  burst  of  energy  that  brought  forth 
ready  responses  of  "No!  never!" — "Well 
then,  my  word  for  it,  the  first  of  December 
will  find  every  man  in  his  place,  and  work 
will  go  on  prosperously,  and  when  Christ 
mas  comes,  men,  we'll  all  be  feasting  and 
rejoicing.  When  the  Company  learns — " 

"To  hell  with  the  Company!"  shouted 
a  knot  of  men  standing  aloof  from  the  gen 
eral  mass,  and  at  the  same  instant  a  huge 
towering  form  made  a  bold  rush  at  the  speak 
er.  Luke  had  kept  his  eyes  open  to  any 
such  surprise  and  met  his  antagonist  with 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          91 

a  powerful  forward  lunge  using  his  one  great 
fist  for  a  blow  directed  at  his  chest;  the  fel 
low  fell  backward  and  stretched  his  mas 
sive  form  on  the  ground  in  front  of  the  crowd 
A  shout  of  hearty  applause,  followed  by 
a  growl  from  the  vanquished,  greeted  this 
display  of  prowess  on  the  part  of  Luke,  and 
some  cried,  "It's  Burly  Pete,  pull  him  off; 
throw  him  out;"  and  a  hundred  hands  were 
ready  to  carry  out  the  demands. 

"Hold,  fellows,"  called  the  speaker,  "I 
don't  wish  Burley  Pete,  nor  any  other  man 
harm;  he  misunderstood  me,  that's  all.  I 
am  not  here  to  defend  the  Mother  Lode 
as  against  you,  but  I  am  here  to  defend  the 
the  Mother  Lode  as  for  you.  Look,  here 
is  the  Superintendent;  hear  him.  Gentle 
men,  this  is  Mr.  Sumner  who  wants  to  say 
a  word  to  you,"  and  Luke  pulled  that  per 
son  upon  the  bench  and  then  himself  dis 
mounted! 

Ralph  Sumner  was  a  man  of  courage, 
but  this  occasion  proved  by  far  the  most 
trying  ordeal  through  which  he  had  ever 
passed.  If  he  had  met  in  the  open  a  pack 
of  wolves  hungry  for  the  food  his  body  would 
make,  he  could  not,  he  imagined,  have  felt 


92          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

such  dread  and  so  much  have  feared  the  out 
come  as  at  the  present  moment.  He  cast 
a  glance  rapidly  about  him,  and  his  cour 
age  waxed  stronger  when  he  saw  that  both 
Dr.  Acton  and  Luke  had  taken  their  stand 
near  him,  and  were  intently  regarding  the 
mass  of  heads  now  but  faintly  visible  in 
the  gathering  darkness. 

"My  men,"  began  the  Superintendent, 
"I  have  heard  what  your  comrade,  Luke 
Darrell,  has  said,  and  I  am  not  surprised 
that  some  opposition  to  the  intended  cut 
should  show  itself,  but  let  me  counsel  quiet 
acquiescence,  at  least  until  the  time  arrives. 
Mr.  Darrell  here,"  pointing  to  Luke,  "and 
Dr.  Acton  will  testify,  that,  although  I 
am  the  Company's  manager,  I  am  a  firm 
friend  of  the  workingman,  and  that  I  surely 
wish  only  the  highest  good  for  all  of  you." 

'Why  not  tear  down  your  notices,  and 
give  up  the  reduction,  then?"  called  a  voice 
from  the  crowd. 

"If  it  were  in  my  power,  men,  I  would  do 
it  cheerfully,"  responded  the  speaker  with 
out  hesitation;  "but  as  I  am  only  the  agent 
of  the  Mother  Lode,  I  am  powerless  to  do 
so.  Let  me  say,  however,  that  whether 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          93 

the  reduction  stands  or  not,  I  am  still  your 
friend,  and  shall  use  every  endeavor  to  see 
entire  justice  done  in  this  and  every  fu 
ture  case." 

A  murmur  of  approbation  was  accorded 
this  part  of  the  speech,  and  Mr.  Sumner 
proceeded. 

"Now  let  those  of  the  day-shift  go  to 
their  homes,  and  those  who  desire  to  go 
to  work  enter  the  cage;  if  there  are  any 
night-shifters  who  object  to  working,  they 
ought  to  go  home  peaceably;  at  least  let 
us  disperse  in  a  spirit  of  mutual  good  feel 
ing.  What  say  you?" 

"Three  cheers  for  Supt.  Sumner,"  shouted 
Luke,  springing  upon  the  bench  beside  the 
manager  and  waving  his  hat;  and  the  cheers 
were  given  lustily. 

"Three  cheers  for  Luke  Darrell,  the  brav 
est  man  in  the  settlement;"  called  a  girl 
ish  voice,  and  the  slight,  graceful  form  of 
Clarissa  Watson,  heretofore  unobserved  in 
the  general  excitement  emerged  from  the 
edge  of  the  crowd. 

Three  cheers,  that  made  the  welkin  ring, 
sounded  forth  in  pleasant  contrast  with 
the  earlier  shouts  of  the  night! 


94          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

Both  Luke  and  Dr.  Acton  stood  amazed 
at  the  bold,  and  yet  timely  action  of  the 
girl.  Both  alike  admired  her  fearlessness, 
and  at  once  turned  to  extend  a  cordial  word 
of  approval. 

But  she  was  gone  on  her  other  mission  of 
seeking  out  her  father,  who,  she  knew,  must 
be  among  the  malcontents. 

"Can  you  tell  me  whose  the  voice  that 
so  generously  asked  honor  to  you,  Mr.  Dar- 
rell?"  inquired  Mr.  Sumner  of  that  gentleman. 

"She  is  the  daughter  of  miner  Watson,  sir, 
and  is  the  sweetest,  prettiest  girl  amongst  us," 
ventured  Luke. 

"She  has  certainly  done  us  all  a  good  ser 
vice;  that  was  a  very  opportune  interrup 
tion.  Our  work  is  done,  gentlemen;  see, 
the  men  are  going  about  their  business;" 
and  at  that  moment  the  rattling  of  the  don 
key  engine  told  that  a  cage  load  of  miners 
had  gone  below,  while  the  murmuring  crowd 
about  the  entrance  was  fast  disappearing 
in  the  gathering  gloom. 

"Yes,  that  it  is,  and  well  done,  too,"  said 
Dr.  Acton,  "thanks  to  you,  Luke,  for  you 
handled  them  like  the  master  of  a  crew  in 
a  mutiny." 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          95 

"Let  me  congratulate  you,  Mr.  Darrell," 
said  the  Superintendent  extending  his  hand; 
"and  now  let  me  make  an  appointment 
for  you  and  Dr.  Acton  to  meet  me  on  Mon 
day,  at  my  office,  as  I  have  been  summoned 
to  Philadelphia,  and  must  leave  early  to 
morrow.  We  must  resume  our  conference, 
gentlemen." 

Both  men  accepted  the  invitation  and 
an  hour  was  named  suitable  to  all,  and  each 
took  his  leave. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SERVICE  AND  SHAME 

"What  man  is  there  of  you,  whom  if  his  son    ask 
bread,  will  he  give  him  a  stone." — Jesus. 

Sunday  in  a  mining  town;  have  you 
ever  experienced  one?  Well,  it  offers  strange 
mixture  of  rest  and  riot;  there  are  those 
who  withdraw  to  their  abodes  for  the  much 
needed  quiet  of  the  home,  humble  though 
it  be;  while  others  debauch  themselves  in 
a  much  mistaken  recreative  pursuit,  varied 
according  to  the  tastes  of  the  individual. 
Men,  and  alas!  women,  too,  to  whom  we 
are  wont  to  look  for  better  things,  hang 
about  the  drinking  places,  or  upon  the  streets, 
and  exchange  coarse  and  trifling  banter 
with  creatures  who  so  little  resemble  any 
likeness  to  the  Creator  of  their  being.  Some, 
whose  senseless  drivel  told  of  time  spent 
over  the  wine  cup,  reel  by,  the  butt  of  rude 
jests,  and  ruder  treatment.  Others  find  long 
hours  of  devotion  to  gambling  of  every  de- 
96 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          97 

vice,  and  too  often  part  with  all  their  earn 
ings  in  a  mad  indulgence  of  a  common  pro 
pensity  for  cards  or  dice! 

There  are  rows  of  squalid  houses  where 
these  poor  are  wont  to  congregate,  to  feast* 
their  love  of  idle,  unprofitable  amusement, 
and  to  throw  into  the  capacious  maw  of 
the  liquor  traffic  their  hard-earned  dollars; 
crazed  by  drink,  or  enraged  by  their  "bad 
luck,"  the  brawl  and  "knock  out"  are  sure 
to  follow:  and  even  late  into  the  night  on 
a  Sabbath  meant  for  rest,  they  carry  on 
their  weary,  woe-working  riot,  until  worn 
out  both  by  bodily  and  mental  fatigue, 
they  drag  themselves,  quarreling,  cursing, 
and  reeling,  to  their  wretched  homes;  homes 
rendered  tenfold  more  wretched  by  the 
debauch,  and  waste,  and  burdens  self-imposed. 

Church-going  in  a  mining  village  is  by  no 
means  general;  the  few,  in  whom  the  taste 
for  such  resort  still  lives,  stand  forth  in 
bold  relief  against  the  wretched  back-ground 
just  painted  in  our  picture.  Still  there  are 
the  few  who  find  the  Day  of  Rest  a  joyous 
season  in  which  to  pay  their  devotions  to 
their  Creator,  and  seek  sanctuary  from  the 
world  of  care,  and  sin,  and  soul-sickness. 


98          THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

Oh!  blessed  institution  of  Divine  love  and 
wisdom;  thou  Sabbath  made  for  the  mil 
lions  of  earth,  swing  wide  thy  portals  of  rest; 
ring  loud  and  long  the  joyous  bells  of  in 
vitation  to  God's  house  of  service  and  prayer! 

The  early  mass,  the  pleading  sermon, 
the  hymns  of  praise  fill  up  the  day  to  those 
who  see  thy  rest;  while  the  day's  vespers 
close  all  around  and  tuck  them  in  their  couches 
of  repose  as  the  gentle  mother  loves  to  leave 
her  babes  in  their  beds  of  innocence. 

Do  we  find  any  of  the  persons  with  whom 
we  are  now  somewhat  acquainted,  in  pur 
suit  of  ungodly  pleasure,  or,  on  the  other 
hand,  seeking  divine  unction  and  spirit 
ual  grace?  Let  us  look  for  familiar  faces 
in  and  out  among  the  ranks  of  both  classes. 

On  this  first  Sabbath  of  our  story  in  the 
Pennsylvania  mining  settlement,  the  sun 
rose  bright  and  clear  and  cast  its  sheen  of 
light  over  the  thin  covering  of  snow  that 
spread  its  ermine-like  mantle  upon  hill  and 
plain  and  frozen  river.  The  cheery  bells 
sounded  clear  through  the  crisp  morning 
air  summoning  the  people  to  praise  and 
prayer.  Everything  without — the  clear  sky, 
the  warm  sunlight,  the  music  of  the  bells, 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          99 

and  the  clean,  snow-covered  streets — all  in 
vited  the  thoughts  to  purity  and  peace  and 
holy  reverence. 

Passing  up  the  village  street  we  behold  the 
aged  mother  leaning  upon  the  strong  arm 
of  her  great,  broad-shouldered  son;  the 
sombre  black  she  wore  told  of  loss,  her  manly 
boy  now  largely  supplies;  her  feeble  steps 
and  bent  form  betokened  the  effect  of  toil 
and  suffering,  while  her  coarse  attire  plain 
ly  showed  she  belonged  to  that  class  whose 
daily  lot  seldom  if  ever  yields  life's  smallest 
luxury.  Her  companion,  also  clad  in  coarse 
clothes,  yet  clean  and  well-cared  for,  chose, 
here  and  there,  for  them  the  smoothest 
path,  and  often  exerted  his  gigantic  strength 
to  assist  the  tottering  steps.  Under  his 
well-worn  felt  hat,  we  see  a  clean  shaven  face, 
with  full  grey  eyes  and  pleasant  mein,  and 
are  not  disappointed  in  discovering  that  their 
owner  is  no  less  a  personage  than  our  old 
acquaintance,  Luke  Darrell;  and  this  is 
his  mother,  the  tender,  doting  parent  that 
we  have  met  before  in  her  humble  home. 
They  are  going  to  the  house  of  worship  yon 
der,  which  the  snow  and  the  rich  sunlight 
have  painted  in  purest  white.  The  sharp- 


100        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

pointed  roof,  the  low  eaves  and  shapely 
spire  tell  us  that  is  it  an  Episcopalian  chapel, 
a  class  of  churches  that  dot  the  eastern 
states,  and  have  done  so  much  to  hold  the 
Cross  before  the  humble  dwellers  in  these 
sections. 

"Ah,  mother,  there  is  Clarissa,"  said  the 
son;  "she  waits  at  the  door  for  our  coming; 
yes,  she  nods  us  a  good  morning." 

"The  dear,  sweet  girl!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Darrell,  "she  always  carries  gladness  and 
sunshine  with  her." 

"Yes,  and  how  little  of  encouragement 
she  has  at  home;  when  I  see  what  others 
have  to  battle  against,  I  often  wonder  what 
I  would  do  without  your  blessed  help,  mother," 
and  the  stalwart  young  man  looked  down 
to  meet  the  upturned,  loving  gaze  of  his 
parent. 

"God  bless  you,  Luke!  Such  words  bring 
much  gladness  to  your  mother's  heart  and 
lift  a  load  of  cares,"  was  her  tender  reply. 

On  reaching  the  entrance  of  the  church 
they  were  greeted  by  Clarissa,  whose  cheer 
ful  words  and  happy  mien  brought  joy  and 
comfort  to  the  humble  pair.  She  enquired 
about  their  welfare,  spoke  of  the  beauty  of 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        101 

the  snow,  and  the  cheering  splendor  of  the 
holy  day. 

"And  how  is  your  hand,  Luke?"  she  asked 
catching  a  sight  of  the  bandaged  member. 

"Getting  along  nicely,  thanks;  not  quite 
well  enough  for  me  to  get  back  to  the  mine, 
though,"  said  the  man.  "By  the  way,  how 
is  your  patient,  Mark  Waring,  Miss  Nurse?" 

"Mark  is  improving  rapidly.  He  was 
removed  to  his  home  yesterday,  but  oh, 
the  pitable  sight  of  that  empty  sleeve,  how 
it  makes  one's  heart  ache  to  see  it!" 

"I  shall  visit  him  after  dinner,  if  you 
think  he  is  well  enough,"  said  Luke. 

"Oh!  he  will  be  so  glad  to  see  you!  he  has 
looked  forward  to  your  coming  ever  since 
I  gave  him  your  message.  Shall  we  go  in 
now — I  see  the  people  are  coming  and  the 
bell  tolls  its  last  strokes,"  and  the  party 
entered  the  sanctuary. 

Over  the  altar  we  read  the  touching  text 
"Come  unto  Me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are 
heavy  laden  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  The 
choir  in  the  little  loft  rose  to  sing,  and  soon 
the  whole  congregation  joined  their  voices 
in  the  beautiful  hymn: 


102        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"Safely  through  another  week, 
"God  has  brought  us  on  our  way; 
"Let  us  now  a  blessing  seek, 
"Waiting  in  His  courts  today; 
"Day  of  all  the  week  the  best, 
"Emblem  of  eternal  rest." 

But  we  cannot  follow  them  through  the 
entire  service;  suffice  it  to  say  that  many 
a  weary  and  sin-sick  heart  found  comfort 
and  blessing.  The  pastor  read  the  twelfth 
chapter  of  the  Gospel  by  John,  in  which 
the  touching  scene  of  the  Saviour's  anoint 
ing  by  Mary,  took  place  at  the  home  in 
Bethany.  And  from  here  he  took  his  text: 
"For  the  poor  always  ye  have  with  you." 

He  sketched  the  incidents  of  that  scene 
described  by  the  Disciple  whom  Jesus  loved; 
he  lead  his  hearers  to  view  the  hard  condi 
tions  placed  upon  the  toilers  and  the  poverty- 
stricken  as  necessitous  in  the  laws  of  na 
ture;  he  showed  them  that  society  in  its  or 
ganization  and  in  its  obedience  to  its  con 
ventional  laws  followed  only  a  divine  decree 
in  burdening  the  lower  classes  with  hard 
ships  and  suffering.  "These  are  the  inex 
orable  laws  governing  the  race;  God  has 
given  us  the  poor  to  train  our  hearts  to  love 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        103 

and  alms  and  sympathy.  *In  the  first 
place,  I  should  without  hesitation  say  that 
chief  among  the  causes  of  poverty  is  the 
hard  condition  of  the  human  lot  as  by  na 
ture  established. 

"The  prime  reason  why  bread  must  be 
so  dear  and  flesh  and  blood  so  cheap  is 
that  tshe  ratio  of  exchange  between  the  two 
has  been  fixed  in  the  constitution  of  the 
earth,  much  to  the  disadvantage  of  the 
latter.  When  it  is  written  that  God  cursed 
the  ground  and  bade  it  be  unfruitful, 
bringing  forth  briars  and  thorns,  that  man 
should  only  eat  his  bread  with  a  dripping 
brow,  the  Scripture  does  not  exceed  the 
the  truth  of  the  unceasing  and  ever  pain 
ful  struggle  for  existence. 

"If  then  you  complain  of  poverty,  make 
your  complaint  manfully  and  squarely 
against  the  Maker  of  the  Earth,  for  poverty 
is  largely  His  work.  The  socialist  is  sim 
ply  dishonest  when  he  charges  human  misery 
upon  society.  Society  has  done  vastly  more 
to  relieve  misery  than  to  create  it." 

Luke    Darrell    waS    an    interested    listener 


*From    "The  Causes   of   Poverty" — by  the    late   Francis  A. 
Walker  in  the  Century  Magazine. 


104        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

to  these  utterances  of  an  orthodox  church 
man;  the  doctrines  moved  him  to  deep  med 
itation  and  aroused  an  opposition  within 
his  breast  that  would  have  somewhat  start 
led  the  Rev.  Arthur  Laud,  the  staid  and 
amiable  pastor  of  the  flock  to  which  our 
hero  belonged.  The  homeward  way  was 
passed  in  a  thoughtful  mood,  and  the  day 
was  filled  with  frequent  contemplation  of 
such  marked  but  commonly  prevailing  views 
as  the  foregoing  sermon  contained. 

That  afternoon  this  man  of  strong  phy 
sical  manhood,  determined  purpose,  and  com 
passionate  heart  found  himself  at  the  bed 
side  of  the  unfortunate  Mark,  where  he 
talked  cheerfully  for  an  hour  about  the  news 
of  interest  at  the  Mother  Lode,  and  also 
ventured  to  assure  him  of  a  friendly  sympathy 
in  his  loss  and  suffering. 

"Ay,  Luke,"  said  the  sufferer,  "it's  a  hard 
lot  for  a  man  who  depends  upon  his  labor 
to  earn  a  livelihood,  and  the  world  is  not 
a  very  generous  or  considerate  one." 

"But  there  is  work  for  such  as  have  been 
deprived  of  a  part  of  their  powers.  Do 
not  become  downcast,  my  man;  we  will  see 
to  it  that  you  get  on  all  right;  so  just  keep 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        105 

up  your  courage,  and  hope  for  the  best," 
responded  Luke.  "Now  goodbye,  Mark;  I'll 
drop  in  again  soon.  Now,  Margery,  keep 
your  father  in  good  spirits,  child;  that's 
half  the  battle."  And  the  genial  fellow 
left  as  much  cheer  as  lay  in  his  power.  He 
did  not  neglect  to  look  about  him,  however, 
and  make  note  of  any  comforts  his  friend 
might  lack,  which  he  might  be  able  to 
supply. 

The  night  was  now  fast  approaching, 
and,  in  the  business  center  of  the  village, 
the  sounds  of  revelry  and  reckless,  wanton 
riot  rolled  out  upon  the  street  from  many 
a  miserable  haunt  where  vice  and  crime 
were  holding  high  carnival.  In  some  such 
places  drunken  songs  told  of  maudlin  mer 
riment,  from  others  cursing  and  blasphemy 
and  loud  angry  quarreling  grated  upon  the 
unaccustomed  ear. 

As  Dr.  Acton,  returning  from  a  visit  of 
mercy,  passed  one  of  these  resorts  his  heart 
chilled  within  him  to  hear  the  now  familiar 
voice  of  Worry  Watson,  engaged  in  the  fav 
orite  pastime  of  expressing  his  views  upon 
the  social  relation  of  the  workingman  and 
the  capitalist. 


106        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"You  tell  me,"  he  was  saying  as  the  Doctor 
halted  to  listen,  "that  these  money  kings 
care  a  'cuss'  for  any  of  us;  now,  that  was 
all  bosh  about  takin'  care  of  our  interests 
that  the  manager  gave  us  the  other  night; 
yer  can't  'string'  me;  and  any  man  is  a  damn 
fool  to  put  a  grain  o'  faith  in  what  he  said. 
Now  look  at  that  gang  of  I-talians  and  Bo- 
hemies  that  were  put  in  here  last  summer; 
every  dirty  mother's  son  of  'em  is  too  low 
for  a  white  man  to  'sociate  with;  and  ain't 
they  takin'  the  place  of  us  honest  fellers?" 

"Whirra  ya  a  cuma  at,  ma  fren'?  Is 
notta  this  a  freea  countra?  For  what  did 
you  Sjorja  Washington  fight,  me  fren'? 
You  thinka  Sjorja  Washington  right;  I 
think  Sjorja  Washington  raighta  too;  a 
evra  bodda  thaink  he  right.  Ma  fren', 
Italy  justa  so  gude  as  America,  and  Gari 
baldi — he  justa  so  gude  as  Sjorra  Washing 
ton,  ma  fren'!" 

Worry  rushed  upon  the  speaker — an  Italian 
called  Gaudio. 

"Don't  you  call  me,  'ma  fren'!  I  am 
no  friend  of  your  whole  damn  race!  Go 
back  to  your  wonderful  Italy  an'  your  Garry- 
bald-eyes  and  stop  interferin'  with  decent 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        107 

men,"  bawled  Watson,  menacing  his  op 
ponent  with  clenched  fist. 

"Ya  gota  no  beezness  speaka  me  thata 
way;  you  putta  up  yo'  feest!  Ba-ah!  I 
knocka  ya  hade  offa  ya  neck."  And  the 
doughty  Gaudio  rushed  upon  his  antag 
onist  in  true  Latin  fashion. 

But,  before  he  could  reach  Worry,  strong 
arms  had  overpowered  him  and  he  was  hurled 
to  the  further  part  of  the  room  striking 
his  head  and  shoulders  against  the  mass 
ive  bar  with  fearful  force. 

Dr.  Acton  had  advanced  within  the  door 
ot  the  saloon,  just  in  time  to  look  beyond 
the  friendly  screen  that  stood  before  it, 
and  saw  Burly  Pete  in  the  act  of  executing 
this  summary  movement  upon  the  Italian. 

The  action  was  followed  by  a  rush  for 
the  fallen  man  by  a  dozen  brutish  looking 
fellows,  with  the  evident  intention  of  add 
ing  further  injury  to  the  postrate  form. 

"Stop,  men,  stop!"  shouted  the  physician, 
"do  you  want  to  make  murder  of  your  at 
tack?  In  the  name  of  humanity,  I  com 
mand  you — stop!"  and  he  bounded  forward, 
placing  himself  before  the  passionate  men 
and  their  victim. 


108        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

The  men  changed  their  threatening  at 
titude  to  one  of  dejected  and  humbled  mien; 
and  the  injured  man  lay  in  a  stupor,  as  if 
life  might  already  have  taken  flight. 

Dr.  Acton,  seeing  that  they  seemed  cowed 
by  his  presence  and  that  they  were  not  like 
ly  to  renew  their  attack,  dropped  upon 
his  knees  by  the  postrate  Italian  and  ap 
plied  first  his  fingers  to  his  wrist  and  then 
his  ear  to  his  breast.  He  was  only  a  moment, 
however,  and,  quickly  turning  to  the  crowd 
of  drink-bedizzened  miners,  he  called  to 
them  to  clear  the  room,  and  open  up  doors 
and  windows. 

At  that  moment  a  light  form  quickly  en 
tered  the  place  and,  dropping  upon  her  knees 
beside  the  gasping  man,  began  to  chafe 
the  hands  and  brow  of  the  sufferer  with  calm, 
but  anxious  concern.  Dr.  Acton,  filled  with 
momentary  amazement,  gave  the  young  woman 
only  a  pleased  glance  of  encouragement  and 
began  to  withdraw  a  phial  from  his  com 
panion  case. 

"Would  not  liquor  help  him,  Doctor?" 
asked  the  girl,  motioning  toward  the  bloated 
bar-tender,  meaning  that  he  could  supply 
it  in  any  quantity. 


THE  CONFLICT  SILENT        109 

"No — too  much  already;  here  I  have  it, 
this  will  perhaps  revive  him,"  and  the  phy 
sician  poured  part  of  the  phial's  contents 
into  the  man's  mouth. 

"There  now,  Miss  Watson;  we  can  only 
wait  for  results.  But  tell  me  how  comes  it 
you  are  here?  This  is  no  place  for  such  as 
you,"  continued  the  doctor. 

"I  was  on  another  errand  and  came  just 
in  time  to  hear  your  anxious  call  to  the  men, 
and  I  knew  something  dreadful  had  hap 
pened.  I  didn't  do  wrong,  Doctor?"  and 
her  pleading  eyes  were  lifted  to  the  face 
of  the  young  doctor  as  he  leaned  over  her. 
She  met  the  look  of  almost  passionate  ad 
miration  that  beamed  from  his  handsome 
face,  and  turning  her  eyes  aside  glanced 
into  the  rough  face  of  the  other  upon  the 
floor. 

"There!"  she  quietly  exclaimed.  "See,  he 
shows  signs  of  reviving,"  and  Dr  Acton's 
professional  nerve  regained  its  wonted  as 
cendency  over  the  less  trained  passion  of 
love,  that  for  the  moment  swayed  him. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

GIRDING  THE  ARMOR 
"Conference  maketh  the  ready  man." 

The  directors  of  the  Mother  Lode  Min 
ing  Company  had  held  an  important  meeting 
at  the  general  office  of  the  company  in  Philadel 
phia.  Ralph  Sumner,  local  superintendent  at 
Carbon  Vale,  was  present  by  a  special  request 
of  the  President  of  the  Company,  for  a  rad 
ical  reduction  of  ten  per  cent  on  wages  in 
the  mines  had,  as  we  have  seen,  caused 
much  anxiety  at  the  settlement,  and  had 
also  brought  the  Company  into  consider 
able  notoriety — the  press  of  the  country 
continued  to  print  its  inflammatory  ar 
ticles  and  also  in  its  editorial  columns  to  be 
rate  the  corporation  for  its  unfeeling  oppres 
sion  of  labor. 

Letters  and  telegrams  from  the  Superin 
tendent  of  the  mines  had  kept  the  general 
office  posted  on  the  trend  of  affairs  at  Car 
bon  Vale,  but  it  was  thought  most  desirable 
110 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        111 

that  Mr.  Sumner  should  be  at  the  directors' 
meeting,  in  order  that  facts  and  circum 
stances  of  moment  might  have  the  fullest 
explanation  from  one  in  position  to  know  them. 

All  day  Friday  and  again  on  Saturday 
the  meeting  had  continued  in  session,  but 
no  final  disposition  of  the  very  troublesome 
question,  of  how  to  maintain  dividends 
for  the  stocks  of  the  Company  at  ruling 
market  prices,  could  be  made.  December 
first,  the  day  set  for  new  rates  to  begin, 
was  only  one  week  off;  but  the  directors 
adjourned  their  meeting  after  investigat 
ing  the  state  of  affairs,  both  as  to  the  dis 
content  at  the  mines,  and  relative  to  the 
profit  side  of  the  balance  sheet. 

"Gentlemen,  I  have  hoped  that  some 
kind  of  relief  could  be  given  to  the  men 
at  the  works,  whose  toil  is  even  now  very 
hard  and  the  wages  are  quite  inadequate 
to  the  needs  of  themselves  and  families," 
said  Ralph  Sumner  in  an  earnest,  feeling 
manner. 

"But  it  appears,  Mr.  Sumner,"  said  the 
President  archly,  adjusting  his  spectacles 
and  looking  sharply  at  the  Superintendent, 
who  had  risen  in  a  respectful  manner,  "that 


112        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

after  two  whole  days  of  deliberation  in  which 
we  have  gone  over  the  matter  quite  fully 
there  is  no  way  but  to  stand  by  our  pur 
pose.  I  am  sorry  for  the  miners,  but  you 
see  that  all  here  are  of  one  mind; — the  cut 
will  have  to  stand." 

"There  is  great  opposition  manifest  in 
the  mine  already,  as  I  have  shown  you," 
resumed  Mr.  Sumner,  "I  have  great  hopes 
that  there  will  be  no  outbreak,  however; 
the  Company  has  two  strong  supporters 
with  whom  I  have  already  spoken;  they 
may  be  able  to  prevent  any  serious  action, 
but  I  am  convinced  that  you  gentlemen 
of  this  Board,  should  meet  the  workmen 
half  way." 

"These  friends  of  the  Company  are  Dr. 
Acton  and  the  man  Darrell,  I  believe  you 
said,"  interrupted  the  President,  glancing 
at  a  bit  of  paper  he  held  in  his  hand. 

"Yes,  sir,  two  who  are  working  to  prevent 
any  collision  but  they  equally  respect  the 
right  of  both  the  miners  and  the  Mother 
Lode.  They  agree  in  the  one  respect,  if 
not  altogether,  that  a  compromise  is  the 
only  safe  way  out  of  the  difficulty,  and  per 
haps  the  only  proper  solution  of  the  difference." 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        113 

"And  what  compromise  do  they  ask?" 
questioned  the  president. 

"That  was  not  made  clear  to  me;  both 
were  prevented  by  circumstances  from  ex 
plaining  that  important  part  of  the  plan, 
which,  I  imagine,  they  have  determined 
upon.  On  my  return  I  shall  have  oppor 
tunity  to  question  them  as  to  that,  as  I  have 
arranged  for  them  to  meet  me  at  my 
office  on  Monday  morning,  at  10  o'clock." 

"They  will  ask,  undoubtedly,  that  the 
Company  rescind  the  reduction,  but  we 
had  best  know  what  their  plan  is,  gentlemen," 
addressing  the  Board;  "therefore,  I  sug 
gest  that  we  adjourn  to  4  P.  M.  Monday 
for  Mr.  Sumner's  report;  it  can  be  despatched 
by  the  noon  train  which  reaches  here  close 
to  the  hour  of  four." 

The  President's  suggestion  was  acted  up 
on  and  the  gentlemen  separated. 

On  Mr.  Sumner's  return  to  the  mines, 
early  on  Monday  morning,  he  found  a  new 
difficulty  confronting  him.  Standing  about 
the  Company's  office  was  a  body  of  swarthy, 
disheveled  looking  men,  their  dinner  pails 
in  their  hands,  and  dark  lowering  looks 
on  their  faces.  As  he  came  to  the  entrance 


114        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

of  the  low,  stone  building  where  he  trans 
acted  his  business,  he  was  approached  by 
one  who  was  evidently  a  leader  of  the  gang; 
this  man  respectfully  saluted  the  manager, 
cap  in  hand,  and  waved  to  the  men  who 
slowly  formed  themselves  in  a  semi-circle  about 
him.  Mr.  Sumner  hesitated,  and  then  ac 
costed  the  capless  fellow: 

"What  is  it,  my  man?" 

"You  Mistaire  Sumnare?"  asked  the  spokes 
man. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  am  the  Superintendent;  what 
will  you  have?" 

"Ya  canna  know  that  they  stop  us  to 
go  inna  tha  mine;  why?  cause  we  come  fra 
Italia;  Italia  waz  our  countra,  but  now 
we  leeve  in  America;  we  worrk  in  tha  mine; 
our  familia  must  get  bread,  but  if  we  no 
work,  no  bread.  You  comperaend,  you 
undarastan?" 

'Why  do  you  not  go  into  the  mine,  men?" 
asked  the  Superintendent. 

"Furra  the  reeson  the  Americanos  will 
na  late  us;  they  shaka  the  feest,  they  pusha 
us  away  an'  swear  that  tha  leeka  tha  men 
of  us  who  go." 

"Oh!     I     understand     now,"     replied     the 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        115 

manager.  "You  wish  to  work,  but  the 
others  won't  let  you." 

"Thata  eet,  Meestare  Sumnare,  that  eet; 
you  knowa  eet  right."  And  the  speaker 
wagged  his  head  with  a  dissatisfied  look 
upon  his  face. 

"You  may  remain  here  just  a  moment?" 
said  Mr.  Sumner.  "I  will  return  in  just 
a  little  while,"  he  explained,  and  walked 
into  the  office. 

Here  the  man  of  business  called  up  the 
Black  Diamond  office  and  offered  to  sup 
ply  to  the  manager  of  that  Company  forty 
of  fifty  foreign  hands  at  the  prevailing 
wages  for  a  few  days,  and  the  offer  was 
readily  accepted. 

Returning  to  the  men  in  front  he  com 
municated  this  arrangement  to  the  leader, 
and  a  murmur  of  approval  accompanied 
by  a  look  of  gratitude  came  from  the  crowd. 

"What  is  your  name,  my  man?"  he  enquired 
of  the  leader. 

"Stefano  Giochio,  ma  name,"  returned 
the  man. 

"Well,  Stefano — or  Giochio — you  are  to 
act  as  boss  for  these  men;  your  wages  will 
be  all  right;  the  Mother  Lode  will  pay  you." 


116        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

The  man  nodded  assent,  and  after  a  few 
further  directions,  the  company  of  Italians 
and  Austrians  took  their  departure  to  new 
scenes  of  labor,  each  evincing  his  pleasure 
by  respectfully  doffing  his  cap  as  he  passed. 

The  Superintendent  re-entered  the  office 
to  ruminate  on  this  new  aspect  of  affairs 
and  to  complete  preparations  for  meet 
ing  the  emergency  thus  thrust  upon  him. 
Later  a  report  came  from  the  shaft  in  which 
this  new  difficulty  had  taken  place,  and 
the  names  of  the  leaders  were  also  filed. 
These  were  Jack  Farnam,  Worry  Watson, 
and  Burly  Pete.  It  appeared  that  some 
altercation  had  taken  place  in  which  the 
foreigners  had  charged  these  three  men 
with  killing  Gaudio  the  night  before; — this 
also  was  news  to  the  manager; — these  three 
leaders  with  a  strong  support  had  remained 
until  the  last  cage  load  was  to  descend  to 
the  mine,  when  with  threats  they  had  man 
aged  to  discourage  any  attempt  on  the  part 
of  the  Italians  and  Austrians  to  go  below. 

Mr.  Sumner  almost  immediately,  after 
giving  some  directions  in  the  office,  called 
his  cart  and  went  in  search  of  the  injured 
Gaudio. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        117 

He  found  him  in  the  Company's  hospital, 
whither  Dr.  Acton  had  had  him  removed, 
a  low,  rambling  building  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  settlement.  Imagine  his  surprise, 
too,  in  finding  Clarissa  Watson  sitting  be 
side  the  still  unconscious  form  and  evident 
ly  much  concerned  about  the  man's  condition. 

The  Superintendent  hesitated  just  a  mo 
ment  as  he  beheld  this  beautiful,  slender  girl 
at  her  post  of  mercy,  his  faltering  caused 
partly  by  the  amazing  fact  of  trying  to  re 
call  the  face  which  he  had  seen  somewhere 
before. 

"You  are,  Miss — ?"  and  the  man  faltered 
as  if  waiting  for  her  to  supply  the  name. 

"I  am  Clarissa  Watson,  sir,  and  you 
are  Supt.  Sumner,"  replied  the  girl. 

"Yes,  I  recollect  you  now,  Miss  Watson. 
How  is  your  patient?  This  is  the  poor 
Italian  who  was  hurt  in  the  'Four  Corners' 
is  it  not?"  rejoined  the  manager. 

"Oh,  sir,  it  is  so  sad,  Mr  Sumner,"  an 
swered  the  compassionate  nurse.  "At  times 
he  seems  to  recover  consciousness,  but  only 
for  a  moment;  I  do  all  the  doctor  directed, 
but  it  seems  of  no  avail.  I  do  hope  he  will 
show  signs  of  recovery  soon,"  and  the  girl 


118        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

quietly  took  her  place  at  the  foot  of  the 
couch,  waiting  for  the  signs  she  sought. 
But  no  change  showed  itself. 

"Will  I  find  Dr.  Acton  in  the  hospital 
now?"  asked  Mr.  Sumner. 

"He  will  return  about  9  o'clock  I  believe," 
she  replied  and  glanced  a  look  of  anxious 
question,  which  the  Superindentent  answer 
ed  by  giving  her  the  time. 

"I  will  wait,  then,"  said  he,  as  it  was  quite 
that  hour  now. 

Dr.  Acton  was  punctual  to  the  minute 
and  evinced  both  pleasure  and  surprise  when 
he  found  the  Company's  representative  in 
waiting.  Nor  did  a  gentle  look,  which  the 
physician  bestowed  upon  the  pretty  maid, 
escape  his  guest's  notice — a  look  that,  guard 
himself  as  he  would,  betrayed  a  depth  of 
tender  feeling,  that  Mr.  Sumner  interpret 
ed  to  his  own  satisfaction,  and,  we  may  say, 
perhaps  correctly. 

After  quietly  greeting  the  gentleman  and 
making  some  inquiries  concerning  the  patient's 
condition  the  physician  soon  despatched  his 
professional  duties,  and  again  leaving  di 
rections  with  Clarissa,  to  be  followed  in  his 
absence,  departed  with  the  Superintendent. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        119 

"Do  you  think  this  man  will  recover, 
Doctor?"  asked  Mr.  Sumner,  as  they  passed 
out  into  the  street. 

"I  hope  so;  though  there  is  grave  doubt, 
sir.  He  has  not  completly  gained  con 
sciousness  since  his  fall,  and  it  perhaps  may 
be  a  violent  case  of  concussion  of  the  brain, 
which  you  know  is  very  hard  to  treat!" 

"Do  you  know  the  circumstarices  con 
nected  with  this  affair,  Dr.  Acton?"  further 
questioned  the  manager. 

"Yes,  pretty  nearly  all  of  the  incidents  that 
led  up  to  it;  for  I  was  a  listener  and  also 
saw  the  man  thrown  where  he  received  his 
injury,"  replied  the  physician. 

"Then  you  know  the  men  who  caused 
the  blow?"  ventured  Mr.  Sumner.  "It  will 
be  necessary  for  me  to  have  them  placed 
under  arrest  at  once;  for,  if  this  man  should 
die,  a  grave  charge  will  stand  against  them. 
The  precaution  must  be  taken  immediately. 
Are  these  the  names  of  some  of  them?"  and 
the  Superintendent  handed  the  doctor  the 
report  of  the  trouble  at  the  mine  shaft,  of 
the  early  morning. 

"Yes,  substantially,  correct,"  said  Dr. 
Acton,  "although  this  man,  Burly  Pete, 


120        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

was    the   one    who    actually    did    the    deed." 
"And     the    other    two — 'accessories     after 
the  fact'   is  what  the  law  calls  it,  I  believe. 
Is  that  right?" 

"Yes,  I  should  say  that  is  exactly  correct," 
and  the  man  of  profession  winced  sensibly 
at  the  admission. 

"I  know  this  will  be  a  very  unpleasant 
duty  for  me,  and  it  may  cause  you  some 
equally  unpleasant  part,  for  you  will  be 
a  valuable  witness  for  the  State,  in  case 
the  matter  turns  out  badly,"  explained 
the  manager;  then  added,  "I  will  leave  you 
now,  and  attend  to  the  arrest  at  once.  Don't 
forget  our  appointment  at  the  office  short 
ly;"  and  Mr.  Sumner  drove  rapidly  away. 


CHAPTER  IX 

SATAN  CHALLENGED 

"I  hold  it  truth,  with  him  who  sings 
"To  one  clear  harp  in  divers  tones, 
"That   men  may  rise  on  stepping-stones 
"Of  their  dead  selves  to  higher  things." 

—  Tennyson. 

The  outcome  of  the  conference,  which  con 
tinued  until  noon  at  the  office  of  Supt.  Sumner, 
was  that  Luke  Darrell  was  to  take  the  next 
train  for  Philadelphia,  and  we  find  him 
making  a  hasty  preparation  for  the  journey. 
It  was  found  that  details  of  the  plan  could 
not  be  sufficiently  despatched  either  by  wire 
or  letter,  and  therefore  it  pleased  Mr.  Sumner, 
after  going  over  the  matter  with  his  con 
ferees,  to  learn  that  Luke  was  in  complete  posses 
sion  of  a  plan  that  met  his  entire  approbation, 
further,  that  Luke  was  both  ready  and  will 
ing  to  undertake  to  place  the  scheme  before 
the  directors  in  person. 

121 


122        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

We  see  the  sturdy  man  of  toil  swinging 
along  the  path  to  his  humble  home  and, 
again  rapidly  back  in  time  to  board  the  south 
bound  train  that  would  in  a  couple  of  hours 
bring  him  face  to  face  with  the  men  who 
ruled  the  Mother  Lode. 

On  his  arrival  at  the  Quaker  City  the  miner, 
after  some  difficulty  found  his  way  to  the 
general  office  on  the  great  busy  Arch  Street, 
where  the  directors  were  already  assembled. 
Entering  the  outer  door,  he  was  met  by  a 
clerk  who  suspiciously  eyed  Luke  and  received 
from  his  hand  a  letter  of  introduction,  with 
which  Supt.  Sumner  had  thoughtfully  pro 
vided  him;  after  another  glance  of  super 
cilious  scrutiny,  the  dapper  office  man  left 
the  rough  workingman  standing  in  awk 
ward  attitude,  but  self-composed,  and  car 
ried  Mr.  Sumner's  letter  into  the  Board 
room.  After  a  short  interval  he  returned 
and  surlily  conducted  Luke  into  the  pres 
ence  of  the  directors. 

This  man  of  humble  experience  had  never 
before  stood  within  a  presence  of  such  kind, 
among  men  whose  ease  of  manner  and  fault- 
lessness  of  attire  contrasted  so  greatly  with 
his  own  awkward  feelings  and  thread-bare 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        123 

clothes;  the  luxurious  and  elegant  fur 
niture,  and  the  pleasant  rooms  were  so  dif 
ferent  from  the  best  he  had  ever  seen,  so 
much  superior  in  fact,  that  the  feeling  of 
strangeness  baffled  in  a  measure  his  efforts 
to  affect  composure.  He  stood,  hat  in  hand, 
and  glanced  from  one  to  the  other  of  the 
dozen  gentlemen  who  sat  at  luxurious  ease, 
some  smoking  cigars  whose  fragrant  odor 
filled  the  air  about  them,  others  engaged 
in  desultory  conversation,  all  turning  to 
curiously  scan  the  man  before  them. 

"You  are — a — Mister  Darrell?"  asked  the 
president,  glancing  from  Luke  to  the  letter 
which  he  held  in  his  hand.  "Gentlemen, 
this  is  Mr.  Darrell;  he  comes  with  a  letter 
of  introduction  from  Supt.  Sumner;  and  has 
something  to  say  concerning  the  situation 
at  the  mines,"  and  he  motioned  to  the  man 
to  take  a  seat. 

"If  you  are  ready,  gentlemen,  we  will  proceed 
to  hear  Mr.  Sumner's  report,  which  I  believe  you 
bring  to  us,  Darrell,"  resumed  the  president. 

"I  came  at  the  wish  of  Mr.  Sumner,  and 
shall  be  pleased  to  lay  our  plan  before  you, 
sir."  said  Luke  regaining  his  wonted  self- 
composure. 


124        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"Let  me  ask  you  if  any  news  of  import 
ance  is  to  be  communicated,  if  anything 
of  unusual  nature  has  taken  place  since — since 
Saturday?"  asked  the  head  official. 

"Well,  yes,  a  few  things  have  occurred 
that  'show  which  way  the  wind  blows,'" 
replied  the  miner. 

"Please  relate  the  facts;  we  wish  to  keep 
posted  on  affairs  at  the  mine,"  and  the  mem 
bers  sat  in  readiness  to  hear  the  latest  news. 

Luke  told  briefly  of  the  fray  in  the  "Four 
Corners"  and  also  the  "shut-out"  of  the 
foreign  laborers  in  the  Mother  Lode;  the  man 
gradually  drifted  into  accounts  with  ease, 
speaking  calmly  and  with  the  emphasis 
of  interest;  and  when  he  had  finished,  those 
present  were  impressed  that  more  than 
an  ordinary  person  was  talking. 

The  members  exchanged  some  observations 
and  gradually  lapsed  into  conversation  again 
as  they  turned  toward  each  other  in  three's 
and  four's  while  the  chairman  and  the  clerk 
of  the  Board  conferred  earnestly  for  a  few 
moments.  This  action  gave  Luke  an  op 
portunity  for  observing  the  men  as  they 
talked  in  natural  manner  with  their  fellow 
members.  The  name  of  Henry  Crosby,  pres- 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        125 

ident  of  the  Company,  was  in  a  measure 
familiar  to  the  men  at  the  works,  and  on, 
two  or  three  occasions  our  hero  had  seen  him 
driving  about  the  mines;  but  to  study  the 
character  of  the  man,  as  shown  in  his  fea 
tures  and  expression  gave  the  man  of  simple 
manners  much  food  for  thought.  Evident 
ly,  President  Crosby  was  a  master  of  business 
diplomacy  and  well-skilled  in  the  methods 
of  manipulating  capital  for  profits.  But 
such  men  seldom  carry  any  outward  signs 
of  the  great  struggle  of  thought  which  evolve 
these  gigantic  schemes  of  money  power,  and 
Mr.  Henry  Crosby  was  certainly  no  ex 
ception.  As  to  the  other  persons  present, 
the  only  thing  that  impressed  the  miner 
was  a  general  lack  of  interest  in  matters 
other  than  self-gratification  and  indulgence 
observed  in  all  their  acts  and  words. 

"Now,  gentlemen,  according  to  Mr.  Sumner's 
letter  which  I  hold,  it  was  impracticable  to 
communicate  the  plans  for  a  compromise, 
which  we  have  met  to  hear,  by  other  means 
than  this  man;  the  Superintendent  has  mat 
ters  of  importance  which  call  for  his  at 
tendance  at  Carbon  Vale.  I  suggest  that 
Mr.  Darrell  now  lay  before  us  the  views, 


126        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

which  are  largely  his  own,  as  to  the  rem 
edies  for  the  troubles  at  the  mine."  At 
the  close  of  Mr.  Crosby's  words,  there  was 
a  general  acquiescence  on  this  course;  all 
waited  for  Luke  to  begin. 

"What  I  shall  say,"  he  began,  "might 
apply  to  any  other  case,  as  well  as  to  the  pres 
ent  difficulty,  gentlemen;  and  equally  well 
to  like  conditions  elsewhere,  than  at  the 
Mother  Lode." 

"Yours  is  a  panacea  for  all  the  ills  that 
capital  is  heir  to?"  interrupted  the  president, 
smiling  facetiously. 

"You  may  call  it  so,  sir,"  replied  Luke 
speaking  with  decision,  and  evidently  de 
termined  to  repel  any  attempt  to  ridicule 
his  position. 

"Well,  we  will  hear  it,"  rejoined  the  pres 
ident. 

"I  am  only  a  miner  from  the  Company's 
works,  gentlemen,  but  I  have  been  in  a 
position  to  observe  at  least  one  side  of  this 
great  question  of  the  conflict  between  labor 
and  capital,  which,  I  think  you  will  all  ad 
mit,  is  superior  to  any  opportunities  you  have 
had.  I  will  not  dwell  upon  the  hardships 
and  sufferings  of  the  miners  and  their  fam- 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        127 

ilies,  although  I  am  certain  they  would  stand 
forth  in  marked  contrast  with  the  comforts 
and  ease  and  luxury  that  surround  you 
and  your  children.  I  make  only  this  brief 
allusion  to  a  fact  of  conditions  that,  in  them 
selves,  should  appeal  effectively  to  every 
man  who  holds  in  his  hand  the  management 
of  great  capital;  my  purpose  is  not,  gentle 
men,  to  show  you  how  to  dispense  a  charity 
fund  for  the  relief  of  the  poor  who  happen 
to  work  or  live  at  the  Mother  Lode's  settle 
ment.  I  am  here  for  what  I  feel  is  a  higher 
purpose."  Luke  paused,  and  observing  the 
deep  hush  of  interest  that  reigned  among 
the  directors,  sat  in  studious  silence  until 
urged  to  proceed. 

"My  purpose  is  to  serve  both  capitalists 
and  workingmen,  and  as  a  preface  I  will  say 
that  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  the  interests 
of  the  one  should  not  be  the  interests  of  the 
other.  In  the  first  place  I  will  say  that  if 
the  erroneous  doctrine  of  the  'survival  of 
the  fittest'  be  applied  in  the  economy  of  the 
industrial  world,  the  workingman  must  in 
the  nature  of  the  case,  come  out  the  win 
ner;  for  it  is  clear  to  every  thoughtful  en 
quirer  after  truth  that  it  is  in  that  class 


128        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

we  find  the  genuinely  fit;  those  who,  since 
they  are  the  creators  of  wealth  in  the  true 
sense,  should  eventually  come  into  the  en 
joyment  of  its  advantages.  But  you  will 
understand,  sirs,  that  organized  capital  must 
intrench  itself  behind  laws  made  in  its  be 
half,*  and  yet  it  is  a  mistake  to  suppose 
that  these  same  laws  are  really  in  the  in 
terests  of  capital." 

The  gentlemen,  who  controlled  the  great 
interests  of  the  Mother  Lode,  looked  the 
amazement  they  felt,  and  the  speaker  evinced 
a  quiet  satisfaction  that  he  had  aroused 
some  feeling  which  might  be  turned  to  the 
advantage  of  his  cause. 

He  resumed:  "You  are  the  men  who 
direct  the  affairs  of  a  great  corporation. 
I  earnestly  appeal  to  you  to  defend  its  in 
terests  by  coming  out  squarely  in  the  in 
terests  of  the  men  who  serve  you  and  make 
it  possible  for  you  to  succeed.  You  are 
a'nxiously  desirous  to  protect  the  invest 
ments  of  the  stock-holders  of  the  Mother 
Lode;  you  sum  this  up  in  the  one  effort 
of  cutting  down  expenses  and  reducing 

*"The  law  favors  capital,  and  the  exclusive  privileges  of  cor 
porations  are  the  principal  means  it  makes  use  of  for  this  pur 
pose." — J.  Stuari  Mill. 


129 


the  pay  of  your  employes.  You  follow 
a  belief  in  whkt  is  generally  considered  a 
sound  business  principle:  that  the  capitalist 
flourishes  at  the  expense  of  labor.  If  labor 
is  cheap  then  dividends  are  proportionate 
ly  large.  Gentlemen,  this  is  a  mistaken 
notion.  When  once  you  have  reduced  the 
laboring  man  to  the  limits  of  his  powers  to 
produce;  when  misery  and  want  confront 
him,  and  the  consequent  enfeebled  powers 
of  body  fail,  what  suffers  more  than  capital? 
when  the  workingman — debauched  by  drink, 
with  no  higher  ambition  held  before  him 
than  the  bare  performance  of  the  work  need 
ed  to  gain  his  day's  wages — fails  to  yield  the 
product  of  his  toil  in  paying  quantity,  who 
suffers,  if  not  the  capitalist?"  The  speaker 
was  growing  earnest  in  his  language  and 
manner,  but  withal  maintained  an  unper 
turbed  front. 

"Now  I  spoke  of  dividends  to  capital — 
did  you  ever  stop  to  consider  that  there 
should  also  be  dividends  to  labor?  Do 
you  console  yourselves  with  the  thought 
that  wages — bare,  paltry  wages — can  alone 
discharge  the  obligations  that  you,  sirs, 
owe  to  the  meanest  toilers  in  your  works? 


130        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

When  the  pay  roll  has  been  made  out  and 
the  coin  needed  to  meet  it  has  been  produced, 
you  have  only  recognized  the  fact  that  labor 
has  made  its  investment  with  your  Company" 
— Luke  here  paused  a  moment  and  looked 
into  the  eyes  of  the  now  intensely  inter 
ested  capitalists: — "Then  there  are  the  div 
idends." 

"I  think  your  demand  for  dividends  for 
laborers  absurd,  Mr.  Darrell,"  ventured  Pres 
ident  Crosby.  "What  is  the  ground  of  your 
demand,  and  upon  what  will  your  so-called 
dividends  be  based,  let  me  ask." 

"That  you  should  know,  Mr.  Crosby, 
and  gentlemen  of  this  Board,  for  if  there 
are  no  grounds  and  no  basis  of  computation 
then  my  demand  is  certainly  unreasonable. 

"The  grounds  for  claim  to  any  contribution 
of  capital  to  labor  are  four-fold.  First: 
Capital  is  dependent  upon  labor  for  all  it 
enjoys:  lands,  buildings,  stocks,  bonds,  bank 
deposits  and  moneys  of  every  sort;  comforts 
and  luxuries  of  every  kind  are  purchased 
and  enjoyed  by  reason  of  labor  in  behalf 
of  capital;  this  statement  needs  no  proofs; 
it  is  self  evident.  Second:  Muscle  and 
blood  are  equal  in  value  to  sordid  wealth 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        131 

if  not  superior;  and  the  workingmen  who  are 
giving  that  treasure  are  entitled  to  as  much 
consideration  as  the  men  who  invest  their 
dollars,  which  dollars  represent  only  so  much 
of  muscle  and  blood  as  has  been  expended 
to  make  them  free  to  be  invested.  Third: 
The  year's  wage  of  every  laborer  is  paid  for  his 
support  and  that  of  his  family,  and  should 
always  be  sufficient  to  secure  him  adequate 
shelter  and  clothing,  and  a  reasonable  allow 
ance  of  good  wholesome  food,  and  should 
likewise  afford  some  leisure  for  rest,  recreation, 
and  mental  improvement,  with  the  means 
also  whereby  to  secure  these.  Fourth:  If 
one  hundred  dollars  earns  ten  for  the  in 
vestor  in  a  year,  and  the  net  earning  of  one 
man  be  also  ten  dollars  in  a  year  for  the 
Company,  then  that  ten  dollars,  instead 
of  going  wholly  to  pay  a  dividend  of  ten  per 
cent  on  capital,  should  be  divided — and 
equally  divided,  too, — between  capital  and 
labor — this  is  the  dividend  to  labor  of  which  I 
have  spoken.  The  basis  of  division  can  only  be 
determined  by  revising  your  system  of  book 
keeping,  which,  heretofore,  has  been  sole 
ly  in  the  interests  of  capital." 

"What  would  you  make  the  basis  of  com- 


putation  of  'labor  dividends,'  Mr.  Darrell?" 
archly  enquired  the  President. 

"Any  fair  adjustment  must  meet  the  con 
ditions  of  the  case  to  be  sure,  and  would 
vary  as  the  circumstances  of  profit  or  loss 
affect  that  case,"  continued  the  miner.  "But 
the  basis  will  be  the  joint  earnings  of  the  lab 
or  and  the  capital.  Let  us  suppose  an 
other  case  by  way  of  illustration.  A  in 
vests  $1000  capital;  B  invests  his  physical 
strength.  Both  employ  their  time  for  which 
they  receive  the  sum  needed  to  provide  liv 
ing  for  both — that  is,  what  it  cost  to  decent 
ly  support  themselves  and  families.  This 
is  governed  by  the  wage  rate.  In  the  Mother 
Lode  this  is  about  $300  a  year.  Now  at 
the  end  of  the  year  A  and  B  have  earned 
on  their  joint  investment  less  the  cost  of 
living,  $200;  should  A  receive  a  dividend 
of  20% ?  or  is  it  not  more  just  to  say  that 
each  should  receive  io%?  That  would  form 
a  basis  of  division  for  that  case  and  every 
other  case  would  be  governed  by  circum 
stances." 

"A  fair  theory,  Mr.  Darrell;  and  I  might 
see  how,  in  the  eyes  of  the  laborer,  that  would 
seem  quite  acceptable.  But  if  that  is  your 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        133 

proposed  plan,  I  think  I  can  say  for  all  those 
present  and  for  every  other  capitalist,  that 
it  is  impossible  in  the  very  nature  of  things," 
said  Mr.  Crosby,  discouragingly. 

"You  will  permit  me  now  to  speak  of  a  mat 
ter  more  familiar — the  existing  conditions 
at  your  own  mines.  I  do  not  wish  to  flat 
ter  myself,  but  I  believe  that  I  know  more 
of  the  feelings  and  purpose,  and  perhaps  of 
the  results  to  be  expected  of  cutting  the 
miners'  wages  ten  per  cent,  than  any  other 
man  in  your  service.  And,  gentlemen,  what 
I  have  said  and  what  I  now  intend  to  ad 
vise,  with  your  permission,  sirs,  is  as  much 
in  your  interest  as  in  that  of  the  class  to 
which  I  belong.  To  put  it  differently," 
and  Luke  spoke  with  a  warmth  that  be- 
tr'ayed  full  sincerity,  "I  am  for  the  Mother 
Lode  as  for  the  workngmen — I  am  not  for 
either  class  as  against  the  other." 

A  murmur  of  approbation  passed  through 
the  room  and  one  member  exclaimed,  "Good." 

"Yes,  that  sounds  well,  and  I  am  con 
vinced  that  you  are  sincere  in  your  senti 
ments,  Mr.  Darrell,  but  then  it  is, — it  can 
only  be  sentiment,"  quickly  rejoined  the  pres 
ident  in  cold,  discouraging  manner. 


134        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

Luke  understood  the  intent  both  of  the 
words  and  manner,  but  instead  of  driving 
him  from  his  purpose,  it  only  incited  him 
to  greater  effort  and  more  determined  at 
titude.  Here  he  was, — the  first  great  op 
portunity  of  his  life  to  test  his  prowess  in 
behalf  of  a  worthy  andt  laudable  purpose, 
was  at  hand,  and  every  element  needed 
to  assist  his  undertaking  was  in  the  condi 
tions  for  success:  The  state  of  affairs  at 
the  mines;  his  own  position  before  the  work 
men,  and  his  known  attitude  of  defense 
of  the  corporation;  the  support  of  Dr.  Acton, 
who  was  a  wise  counsellor  and  a  man  whose 
position  gave  him  prestige;  and  then  he  came 
with  the  full  pledge  of  Ralph  Sumner,  the 
trusted  and  esteemed  superintendent  of  the 
Mother  Lode.  He  inwardly  resolved  to  put 
his  case  in  the  very  strongest  way  possible. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  rising  in  his  place, 
his  tall,  manly  form,  broad  shoulders,  hand 
some  face,  and  warm,  sympathetic  eye  cast 
ing  a  mesmeric  spell  upon  the  assembled  di 
rectors,  "Let  me  say  that  the  time  is  ripe 
for  a  radical  change  in  the  administration 
of  affairs  at  your  Company's  mines — not 
in  the  manager, — but  in  the  orders  that 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        135 

come  to  him  for  execution  from  this  Board. 
The  affairs  at  Carbon  Vale  just  now  are 
in  a  very  unstable  condition;  the  men  are 
even  now  wavering  between  striking  and 
continuing  their  work  under  discouraging  con 
ditions  and  with  great  discontent;  either 
way  it  must  work  to  the  detriment  of  both 
the  men  and  the  Company.  I  have  coun 
selled  acquiescence  on  the  part  of  the  miners, 
and  Mr.  Sumner  will  tell  you  that  I  have 
not  held  out  any  promise  of  relief,  but  only 
a  hope  that  some  kind  of  relief  may  come 
from  the  Company:  indeed,  I  have  said, 
that  to  tear  down  the  notices  of  the  Decem 
ber  reduction  would  be  a  bad  move  on  the 
part  of  the  Mother  Lode,  unless  a  compro 
mise  could  be  effected  equally  to  the  ad 
vantage  of  both  parties,  and  I  now  say  it 
in  your  presence." 

The  president  nodded  his  head,  deep  in 
thought,  but  simply  called,  "Go  on.1  go  on!" 

"Now  then  will  you  allow  me  to  return 
to  the  men  and  tell  them  that  the  Company, 
while  adhering  to  their  purpose  of  reduc 
ing  wages,  does  so  only  under  compulsion 
and  that  wages  will  be  restored  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  that  a  system  of  profit-shar- 


ing  has  been  taken  under  consideration, 
by  which  it  is  possible  that  dividends  can 
be  paid  to  every  employe  who  stands  by 
the  company;  and  that  these  dividends  will 
be  paid  regularly  and  at  as  frequent  inter 
vals  as  practicable?  If  so — if  you  can  give 
them  some  such  assurances,  I  am  still  ready 
to  defend  the  Mother  Lode  in  the  future 
as  in  the  past." 

After  a  moment's  silent  consideration 
during  which  some  questions  were  asked  by 
the  members  and  responded  to  by  Luke, 
it  was  agreed  to  notify  the  latter  by  letter 
at  the  earliest  moment  of  the  action  of  the 
Board. 

"Gentlemen;  I  thank  you  for  your  for 
bearance;  and  now  I  have  only  one  further 
request  to  make,  and  I  am  done." 

"What  is  it,  sir?"  asked  Mr.  Crosby. 

"That  you  will  all  personally  interest 
yourselves  in  the  condition  and  circumstances 
of  the  poor  people  at  the  settlement. 
Simple  charity  would  dictate  that  you  better 
their  condition.  To  specify,  I  will  suggest 
that  all  drinking  places  be  closed,  that  gam 
bling  be  suppressed,  that  such  improve 
ments  as  shall  tend  to  increase  their  interest 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        137 

in  their  homes  and  general  affairs  in  the  settle 
ment  be  extended.  I  could  wish  better 
schools,  a  good  park,  a  library  and  reading 
room,  and  a  savings  bank  in  which  small 
sums  could  be  put  aside — and  of  course, 
so  invested  as  to  yield  a  good  interest;  a 
premium  offered  for  improvements  upon 
homes  and  their  surroundings,  and  further 
the  evincing  of  a  personal  interest  in  the  wel 
fare  of  this  humble,  but  worthy  and  deserv 
ing  arm  of  your  Company's  business." 

As  he  concluded  he  was  cordially  congrat 
ulated  by  each  of  the  gentleman  present, 
and  Mr.  Crosby  extended  an  invitation  to 
the  miner  to  visit  the  general  office  at  any 
time.  Luke  withdrew,  with  a  feeling  that 
his  work  had  not  been  wholly  in  vain,  and 
set  out  upon  his  return  to  the  scenes  of  his 
daily  burden. 


CHAPTER  X 

DEATH  AND  DECEPTION 

"Rise,  happy  morn,  rise,  holy  morn, 
"Draw  forth  the  cheerful  day  from  night: 
"O  Father,  touch  the  east,  and  light 
"The  light  that  shone  when  Hope  was  born." 

—  Tennyson. 

The  air  was  crisp,  and  the  stars  that  shone 
forth  against  a  black  back-ground,  glittered 
like  diamonds  in  the  clear  vault  above; 
tiny  facets  of  snow  and  ice,  reflected  little 
gleams  of  light  that  danced  as  if  at  hide-and- 
seek  with  the  star  beams.  The  miners  of 
Carbon  Vale  had  gone  to  rest  in  their  huts 
and  cottages  at  an  early  hour,  and  only  an 
occasional  footstep  was  heard  as  a  heavy 
shoe  crushed  upon  the  frosty  path,  sending 
forth  the  sharp  ringing  sound  into  the  cry 
stal  air.  The  bark  of  one  dog,  then  another 
in  answer,  were  the  only  vocal  sounds  that 
disturbed  the  intense  quiet  of  the  village, 
138 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        139 

if  we  except  the  distant  subdued  voices  of 
the  busy  workmen  at  the  entrance  to  the 
shaft. 

A  female  form,  clad  in  shawl  and  hood, 
was  observed  at  a  late  hour  hurrying  through 
the  chill  streets,  stopping  not,  but  pressing 
on  with  rapid  steps  to  a  further  part  of  the 
settlement;  once  only  did  she  turn  to  look 
over  her  shoulder,  when  a  flare  of  light  broke 
upon  the  night,  which  she  saw  came  from 
the  glowing  coals  cast  out  of  the  engine 
furnace  at  the  shaft  not  far  distant.  On 
she  sped  and  at  last  stood  crouching  against 
the  dark  wall  of  a  low,  stone  building  that 
from  its  massive  character  and  the  heavy 
doors  and  iron-grated  windows  could  easily 
be  guessed  was  a  stronghold  of  some  sort. 
This  was  the  town  jail,  and  the  woman  had 
sought  its  dark  and  frowning  walls  to  speak 
comfort  to  its  occupants.  As  she  approached 
the  place  the  sounds  of  voices  within  caught 
her  ear  and  she  distinguished  the  words: 
"The  men'll  do  it;  I  tell  yer,  they'll  blow  hell 
out  of  the  works." 

"Perhaps  I  had  best  watch  and  listen," 
she  mentally  said.  "Is  it  possible  that 
he  contemplates  further  mischief?" 


140        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"That's  me  own  opinyum;  Pete  here'll 
do  it  at  the  risk  av  life,  if  need  be;  hey,  Pete?" 

"Wor  I  aver  afeared  to  do  any  of  yor 
durty  jobs?"  was  the  growling  question  in 
reply.  "Ov  E'd  ben  less  rady,  E  wud  na 
hen  hare." 

"Ah!  that's  only  fer  a  time — the  I-talian 
is  out  o'danger  b'  this  time,"  said  the  second 
speaker. 

"Yer  can't  kill  one  o'  them  Dagoes;  they 
ha'  as  many  lives  as  a  cat,"  said  the  voice 
of  the  girl's  father;  and  she  shuddered  per 
ceptibly  as  the  sound  grated  upon  her  sensi 
tive  ear. 

"When'll  be  a  good  time  to  strike,  Worry?" 
asked  his  companion. 

"That  depends  upon  circumstances,  one 
av  which  is, — when'll  we  git  out  o'  this?" 
responded  the  other. 

"If  that  damned  doctor'd  only  swear 
right  we  would  have  no  fear  even  if  Burly 
was  to  swing  fer  it,"  said  the  voice  of  Jack 
Farnam. 

"By  God!  I'll  murder  that  damned  scoun 
drel,  if  ever  I  get  out  o'  this!"  exclaimed 
Watson  fiercely,  and  in  an  unusually  loud 
voice. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        141 

A  cry  of  horror  and  anguish  from  the 
girl  rang  out  on  the  clear  night  air,  and  a 
face  was  pressed  against  the  bars  on  that 
side  of  the  building  where  she  stood. 

"Rissy,"  called  the  man.  But  no  reply 
greeting  his  ear,  he  repeated  "Rissy,  is  it 
you,  gurl?  for  God's  sake  speak!" 

She  heard  the  jolting  of  distant  wheels 
on  the  frosty  road  and,  fearing  that  she  might, 
be  suddenly  interrupted  in  her  mission, 
quickly  darted  to  the  opening  and,  placing 
her  face  to  the  window,  answered  her  par 
ent's  anxious  call. 

"Yes,  father,  I  came  to  tell  you  that 
Gaudio  has  passed  the  crisis,  and  Dr.  Acton 
thinks  he  will  recover." 

"That's  good  news,  indeed!"  exclaimed 
Worry.  "D'ye  hear,  Jack?  Kick  that  hulk 
there  and  wake  him  up  to  the  good  news, 
that  his  neck  is  saved." 

"They"!  let  us  out  now,  I  s'pose,"  cheer 
fully  spoke  Jack. 

"I    fear    not,    Jack,"     answered    Clarissa. 

"And  why  not,  thin?"  demanded  Farnam, 
pressing  in  his  eagerness  closely  beside  the 
other  occupant  of  the  window. 

"Well,    of   course    I    don't   understand    all 


142        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

these  things,  but  I  will  tell  you  what  I  know, 
and  perhaps  it  will  be  clear  to  you  men," 
returned  the  young  woman. 

"Speak,  gurl!  do  not  keep  us  in  suspense 
if  you  have  aught  to  tell,"  prompted  her 
father. 

"You  see  they  had  a  sort  of  examination 
at  the  hospital,  and  they  questioned  both 
Dr.  Acton  and  me  about  the  happenings 
at  the  'Four  Corners'." 

"And  what'd  they  find  out,  Rissy?"  en 
quired  Worry  anxiously. 

"Well,  we  both  told  the  truth,  and  ex 
plained  as  much  as  we  could."  The  girl 
hesitated. 

"And  did  ye  prove  yer  father  a  murderer, 
gurl?"  enquired  he  bitterly. 

"No  father,  no!  and  God  'spare  me  such  a 
trial,"  and  the  girl  sobbed  violently. 

"Then  who  did?  Did  that  damned  Doctor 
accuse  us?  Tell  me  that  and  I'll  mash  him 
to  atoms,"  was  the  reply. 

"You  must  not  be  so  bitter  toward  Dr. 
Acton;  he  is  your  friend — the  friend  of  all  of 
you; — only  he  had  to  tell  the  truth — yes, 
he  would  have  told  the  truth  as  well,  had 
it  been  his  own  father!" 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        143 

"And  he  accused  us  of  an  attempt  to  mur 
der,  them!  Do  you  think  your  father  has 
a  murderer's  heart,  Rissy?"  cried  Watson. 

"Oh,  I  hope  not."  And  the  angry  threat 
of  her  father  against  Dr.  Acton  rang  in  her 
ears.  "No,  Dr.  Acton  testified  that  you 
were  under  the  influence  of  liquor,  and  that 
it  was  apparently  the  result  of  a-of-a-," 
she  stopped. 

"Of  a  what,  child?"  he  prompted. 

"He  said  'a  drunken  quarrel';  oh,  how  I 
wish  you  would  never  touch  another  drop 
for  my  sake — for  my  mother's  sake,  too, 
father!" 

"Well,  well,  Rissy,  we  don't  want  to  hear 
preachin'  now,"  he  returned  in  a  shame-faced 
manner,  "why  do  they  want  to  keep  us  here? 
tell  us  that." 

The  sound  of  near  approaching  wheels 
startled  the  girl  and  she  spoke  rapidly. 

"When  they  questioned  Gaudio,  he  said 
that  you  and  Burly  Pete  were  plotting  against 
him  and  had  threatened  his  life  the  day  be 
fore  in  the  mine,"  she  stopped  speaking 
as  she  saw  a  carriage  rapidly  approach, 
and  darted  into  the  shelter  of  the  doorway 
near  at  hand. 


144        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

But  her  action  had  been  too  late;  she  was 
observed  by  the  occupant  of  the  vehicle,  and 
he  alighted  and  hastened  toward  her  place 
of  hiding. 

"Clarissa — Miss  Watson,  you  ought  not 
to  be  here,"  and  the  speaker  laid  his  hand 
gently  upon  the  upraised  arm,  with  which 
she  drew  her  shawl  over  her  face. 

"Oh,  Dr.  Acton,  you  cannot  know  what 
it  is  to  have  my  sorrow!"  softly  exclaimed 
the  heart-broken  girl. 

"Ah,  I  understand,  Clarissa;  and  my  heart 
aches  for  you,  dear,"  the  full,  sympathetic 
voice  of  the  good  physician  shading  into 
deepest  tenderness,  as  he  gently  drew  her 
away  from  the  dark  entrance  of  the  little 
prison. 

"Have  you  come  from  Gaudio,  Doctor?" 
retreating  a  little  as  she  observed  the  man's 
agitated  manner. 

"Yes,  I  have  just  left  him,  Miss  Watson," 
relapsing  into  a  more  conventional  tone. 
He  had  noticed  that  his  previous  manner 
and  passionate  words  had  caused  her  some 
alarm,  and  the  man  of  honor  was  not  ready 
to  take  any  advantage  of  a  circumstance 
which  placed  her  at  his  mercy.  He  loved 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        145 

her,  he  knew,  and  it  required  every  energy 
of  his  manhood  to  prevent  him  from  show 
ing  it,  but  Herbert  Acton  was  master  of 
his  passion. 

Reassured  by  his  change  of  tone  she  asked, 
"And  is  he  better?  oh,  tell  me,  Doctor!" 

Another  effort  to  command  himself  re 
sulted  in  a  complete  control.  "Yes,  Gaudio 
is  better;  very  much  better.  But  you  must 
not  remain  here,  Miss  Wats£>n,  and  I  shall 
take  you  in  my  carriage  to  your  home,  may 
I  not?"  and  the  half  commanding,  half  plead 
ing  voice  of  the  young  man  prevailed.  He 
lead  her  toward  the  carriage. 

"Let  me  say  to  my  father,  that  Gaudio 
is  better,  first,"  and  she  flew  to  the  grating, 
with  the  message  of  good  news.  In  a  mo 
ment  she  returned,  and  murmured  in  a  sweet, 
trustful  vioce,  "Now,  Dr.  Acton,  I  am  ready; 
I  will  go  with  you." 

The  man  assisted  her  in  his  gentlest  man 
ner,  and  soon  the  rapidly  rolling  wheels 
went  creaking  and  jolting  over  the  frozen 
track. 

Dr.  Acton  might  have  been  happy  in  the 
short  interval  that  it  took  him  to  drive  the 
distance,  time  that  under  ordinary  condi- 


146        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

tions  would  have  proved  much  too  short, 
but  now  seemed  too  long.  Had  he  acted 
an  unmanly  part?  Had  he  bartered  his 
honor  for  the  short  moments  of  pleasure 
it  gave  him  to  ride  alone,  upon  the  deserted 
streets  beside  one  he  was  fast  learning  to 
love  better  than  all  else  in  life.  Why  was 
he  so  silent?  why  did  he  not  take  advantage 
of  a  time  like  this? — at  least  to  say  some 
tender  word  that  she,  who  sat  beside  him, 
might  guess  his  affection. 

Did  he  discover  that  she  was  unworthy 
of  him  on  account  of  her  character  or  social 
position?  Did  he  begin  to  detest  her  be 
cause  of  her  father's  wretched  situation 
and  vile  character?  No!  he  would  have 
answered  each  interrogatory  with  scorn.  He 
understood  his  own  heart  now,  and  he 
would  have  set  at  naught  any  question  of 
station  or  connection,  or,  in  fact,  any 
trifling  barriers  which  the  conventions  of 
society  might  raise  against  the  choice  of 
his  heart.  Herbert  Acton  was  a  noble 
man  in  the  truest  sense,  and  he  could  rec 
ognize  real  character  and  intrinsic  worth — yes, 
he  was  satisfied  with  what  he  found  in  the 
life  and  character  of  Clarissa  Watson.  Why, 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        147 

then,  was  there  such  reserve  in  his  manner? 
why  such  silence?  Alas!  he  had  deceived 
the  woman  of  his  heart! — Gaudio  was  bet 
ter — but  he  was  dead! 

Mechanically,  therefore,  he  again  assist 
ed  the  sweet,  frail  and  joyous  girl  as  she 
alighted  at  the  door  of  her  humble  home. 
Home?  The  house  of  a  murderer  to  shel 
ter  this,  to  him  sweetest  and  noblest  of  God's 
creatures!  How  the  thought  stung  him!  and 
yet  he  could  not  tell  her  the  meaning  of  his 
words,  "Yes,  he  is  better;  very  much  better." 
No,  it  would  be  easier  to  say  to  her  on  the 
morrow,  "Gaudio  is  dead;  your  father  is 
a  murderer;  and  I  am  his  chief  accuser." 
Oh!  God  of  mercy,  what  a  task!  Yet  he 
must  have  time  to  think,  and  this  midnight 
hour  was  not  the  moment  to  make  such  a 
harrowing  statement.  Yes,  he  would  wait 
for  daylight;  the  fatal  truth  would  not  seem 
so  terrible  then;  and  she  would  be  happy 
in  her  ignorance  during  the  cold,  miserable 
night — her  joy  would  give  her  peace  and 
slumber  that  the  truth  would  dispel.  He 
would  not  undo  his  deception. 

"Good   night,  Clarissa,"   he   said   tenderly, 
but  in  a  husky  voice. 


148        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"Good  night,  and  God's  blessing,  Dr.  Acton," 
and  the  invocation  accused  his  conscious 
soul. 

He  drove  wearily  home. 


CHAPTER  XI 

CUPID     REVEALS     HIMSELF 

"Thou'rt  like  a  lovely  flower, 
"So  beauteous,  fair,   and  pure, 
"But  yet  my  heart  feels  sorrow 
"For  what  thou  may'st  endure." 

— From    the   German. 

The  morning  brought  to  Dr.  Acton  many 
duties;  the  village  was  visited  by  a  strange 
epidemic  of  disease  that  suddenly  prostrat 
ed  its  victims,  and  it  was  found  to  spread 
with  great  rapidity.  It  had  baffled  his  ut 
most  skill  and  efforts,  and  the  form  in  which 
the  malady  had  showed  itself  varied  so  greatly 
that  it  was  difficult  to  properly  classify  the 
symptoms. 

Nevertheless  the  man  of  medicine  applied 
himself  diligently  to  his  ever-increasing  task 
of  keeping  this  new  foe  to  the  poor  inhab 
itants  of  Carbon  Vale  under  control.  But 
the  cases  multiplied  beyond  his  power  to  per 
sonally  attend  them,  and  he  was  much 
149 


150        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

distraught  as  to  the  best  way  for  meeting 
this  heavy  demand  upon  his  professional 
services.  The  thought  occurred  to  him  that 
he  could  secure  aid  from  Philadelphia,  and 
he  was  about  to  put  this  plan  into  execution," 
when  his  round  of  calls  brought  him  on  the 
street  past  the  home  of  the  Watsons.  His 
heart  smote  him  as  he  recollected  that  he 
left  Clarissa, — now  its  sole  occupant, — in 
ignorance  of  the  truth  concerning  the  mur 
dered  Gaudio.  He  had  fully  intended  to 
hasten  to  her  at  the  earliest  possible  moment 
after  breakfast,  and  make  a  clean  breast 
of  the  whole  matter.  On  his  couch  the 
previous  night  he  had  fallen  asleep  from 
sheer  fatigue  of  body  and  mind,  in  the  very 
act  of  planning  how  he  would  break  the  terrible 
news  to  the  poor  girl.  He  had  felt  her  sor 
row,  her  filial  grief;  he  had  declared  to  him 
self  that  he  would  also  make  known  to  this 
dear  being,  to  whom  such  awful  pain  would 
come,  his  own  tender  feelings,  and  would, 
in  his  honest,  straight-forward  way,  promise 
to  love  and  uphold  her  in  her  sorrow, 
and  to  protect  her  from  the  world.  He  had 
felt  that  his  duty  was  clear,  both  to  himself 
and  to  this  dearest  of  all  creatures.  But 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        151 

the  morning  had  brought  its  fresh  duties, 
and  new  calls  had  been  made  upon  his  pro 
fessional  skill. 

In  fact  he  had  not  yet  breakfasted,  and 
the  recollection  of  his  purpose  and  the  time 
he  had  allotted  from  his  day's  duties  joined 
with  pangs  of  hunger,  brought  a  happy 
thought.  He  would  make  an  excuse  to  stop 
and  ask  for  a  simple  cup  of  coffee  from  Clarissa 
Watson;  the  thought  consoled  and  rejoiced 
him;  for  he  thought  to  himself,  "I  can  see 
her  busied  with  its  preparation,  and  have 
the  pleasure  of  partaking  of  this  simple  re 
past  from  her  own,  dear  hand!" 

He  turned  his  horse  and  drove  at  once 
to  the  poor,  mean  hut,  and  tied  the  animal 
to  the  fence.  He  approached  the  door  and 
tapped  lightly,  for  it  would  require  no  heavy 
knock  to  accost  its  occupant,  for  it  was  a  very 
small  house.  He  waited;  no  response  came 
to  his  summons.  He  listened;  there  was 
no  stir  within,  perhaps  Clarissa  had  not  awak 
ened,  for  had  she  not  been  out  till  a  late 
hour?  But  he  would  try  again,  and  he 
knocked  quite  loudly,  and  then  listened. 
Was  that  a  call  to  come  in?  no; he  listened; 
it  was  a  moan,  and  his  practised  ear  told 


152        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

him  it  came  from  some  one  in  pain.  He 
tried  the  door  and  found  it  unlocked;  he 
pushed  it  open  a  little  way  and  listened  again. 
Yes,  he  was  right,  for  a  low  moan  again  fell 
upon  his  ear,  and  now  without  further  hes 
itation  he  closed  the  door  behind  him,  and 
made  a  search  for  her  whom  he  expected 
to  find;  he  drew  aside  the  thin  curtain  that 
formed  a  partition  of  the  two  scanty  rooms. 
His  heart  stood  still  and  pain  drove  every 
color  from  his  face.  "Oh!  God!  what  is 
this?"  he  exclaimed;  "Clarissa,  Clarissa,  my 
darling,  my  love!  what  has  happened?"  and 
the  strong  man  who  had  seen  horrors  and 
had  ministered  to  pain  and  great  physical 
suffering,  broke  down  under  the  awful  sight 
that  met  his  gaze.  He  dropped  upon  his 
knees  beside  the  couch  where  lay  the  girl, 
beautiful  in  her  ghastly  plight,  bleeding 
and  stained  in  her  own  crimson,  her  hair 
hanging  in  disorder,  her  dress  torn,  and  her 
usually  bright  eyes  glazed  and  staring.  He 
caught  her  hand;  he  kissed  her  blood  stained 
cheek;  he  raised  her  drooping  head  and  looked 
into  her  dull,  set  eyes! 

"Clarissa!    darling!    speak    to    me,    if     you 
can,   and  tell  me,   my  child,   my  love,  what 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        153 

or  who  has  done  this!"  The  man  was  in 
sane  in  his  anguish  of  heart,  and  his  suffer 
ing  overcame  his  self-control  for  the  moment, 
and  drove  from  his  mind  the  more  sensible 
course  open  to  him,  of  applying  his  med 
icals  skill  for  her  relief.  He  dropped  her 
hand,  and  gently  replaced  her  head  upon 
the  couch,  adjusting  the  pillow  that  her 
head  had  evidently  not  touched  in  all  her 
pain  the  night  before.  Then  recollecting 
himself  he  applied  his  fingers  to  her  wrist. 
Her  pulse  was  still  beating,  but  feebly;  he 
placed  his  ear  against  her  breast;  thank  God! 
her  heart  beat — lightly,  to  be  sure,  but 
regularly. 

Now  he  was  the  strong  physician  again 
and  quickly  his  mind  took  up  the  train  of 
rational,  professional  thought;  it  brought  its 
own  relief.  No  matter  just  now  the  cause 
of  her  injuries;  that  question  could  wait. 
He  hurried  from  the  house,  and  quickly  sought 
his  medicine  case,  which  he  had  left  in  his 
carriage,  for  he  was  not  making  a  professional 
call. 

He  caught  the  sound  of  a  footstep  on  the 
rough,  icy  ground,  and  turning  saw  a  girl 
walking  along  the  path. 


154        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"Come  here,  my  child;  I  may  want  you 
in  here,"  pointing  to  the  hut  where  Clarissa 
lay. 

"Why,  doctor,  what  is  the  matter?  oh, 
what  can  be  the  trouble?"  and  the  man 
recognized  the  voice  and  face  of  Margery 
Waring! 

"Quickly,  but  quietly,  Margery,  my  child; 
and  do  not — you  must  not  give  way  to  ques 
tions,  for  I  cannot  explain;  and  not  a  moment 
must  be  lost.  Come,  you  may  see,  but 
you  must  be  brave  and  stay  to  help  me." 
The  doctor  lead  the  way  into  the  house. 

"Now  be  calm  and  brave,  my  child,  for 
it  is  a  terrible  sight,  your  eyes  will  rest  upon;" 
and  the  man  who  had  passed  through  scenes 
of  horror  before  showed  the  agitation  he 
could  have  wished  to  control. 

"Oh,  Clarissa,  dear  Miss  Watson." 

"Quiet,  Margery;  we  must  both  be  brave. 
Bring  me  water  and  cloths,  and  some  water 
in  a  glass  or  cup,"  and  Dr.  Acton  raised  the 
pale  stained  face,  and  kissed  it  as  he  gently 
placed  Clarissa's  head  upon  his  strong  arm. 

A  sigh  of  reviving  powers  escaped  her 
lips  and  a  half  conscious  look  broke  from  her 
eyes.  The  doctor  chafed  her  hands  that 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        155 

lay  limp  and  lifeless  by  her  sides;  and  now 
he  bathed  her  brow  and  laid  upon  her  head  the 
cloth,  wet  from  the  icy  cold  water,  Margery 
had  brought.  There  were  better  signs  now, 
and  the  current  of  life  changed  perceptibly. 
He  substituted  a  pillow  for  the  arm  he  re 
luctantly  withdrew,  and  taking  up  his  case 
of  medicines  prepared  a  reviving  draught; 
this  he  applied  to  her  lips,  and  intently 
watched  the  effect.  The  sufferer  shuddered 
violently,  and  opened  her  eyes  wide  and 
looked  around  her;  she  spoke,  but  he  could 
not  at  first  catch  her  words. 

"I  am  so  cold,"  she  murmured. 

"Yes,  darling,  it  is  very  cold  in  here;  we 
will  have  you  warm,"  and  drawing  the  covers 
of  the  wretched  couch  over  her,  he  directed 
Margery  to  build  a  fire  upon  the  hearth. 

"What  has  happened  to  me?  Oh,  my 
side  and  my  poor  head — how  it  pains  me!" 
she  said  looking  about  in  a  questioning 
manner. 

"You  have  been  very  badly  hurt,  dar 
ling,  but  I  do  not  know  how,"  replied  the 
doctor,  "And,"  he  added,  "it  does  not 
matter  how  this  happened,  just  now;  we 
must  find  relief  for  you  and  care  for  your 


156        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

injuries."  The  tenderness  of  the  man  caused 
a  smile  to  mount  for  an  instant  upon  the 
face  of  the  sufferer,  but  only  for  an  in 
stant  and  a  look  of  troubled  pain  took  its 
place. 

"There,  Clarissa  dear,  you  must  be  quiet, 
both  in  mind  and  body;  do  not  think  of  any 
troubles,"  conforted  the  kind  physician. 

"Tell  me!  oh,  Dr.  Acton,  and  tell  me  truly, 
what  of  my  father?  have  they  put  him  to 
death  yet?"  She  spoke  as  one  who  had 
been  long  absent  and  had  lived  in  intense 
fear  of  some  awful  calamity. 

"No,  my  darling,  your  father  is  safe  and 
no  one  is  going  to  put  him  to  death,  or  harm 
him,"  said  he  reassuringly. 

"But  how  can  I  know  that  you  tell  me 
the  truth,  sir?  You  told  me  long,  long  ago, 
that  Gaudio  was  better,  very  much  better, 
and  Dr.  Acton," — by  a  great  effort  she  raised 
her  head  looking  piteously  at  him — "Gaudio 
is  dead!"  A  look  of  distrust  and  unutterable 
pain  came  over  the  lovely  face,  as  she  sank 
back  upon  the  couch. 

Dr.  Acton  groaned  aloud. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Doctor?"  inter 
rupted  Margery,  called  to  the  couch  from 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        157 

the  adjoining  room  by  the  cry  of  suffering 
from  the  Doctor's  lips.  "Has  she  fainted 
again?" 

"No,  child,  get  the  fire  going  and  the 
room  warm."  He  did  not  want  the  girl 
to  see  his  agitation! 

"Now,  my  darling,"  addressing  Clarissa, 
when  the  child  had  gone,  "do  not  think  of 
any  imaginary  trouble,  and  for  my  sake, 
for  your  own  sake,  dear  one,  do  not  doubt 
that  I  am  telling  you  the  truth." 

"Dr.  Acton,  why  do  you  call  me  'darling' 
and  'dear  one'?  And  tell  me — did  you  not 
say  that  Gaudio  was  very  much  better — but 
I  know  that  Gaudio  is  dead.  He  is  dead 
and  my  poor,  wretched  father  will  surely 
be  put  to  death."  She  groaned  and  tried 
to  hide  her  face,  but  her  strength  was  not 
sufficient. 

He  sat  a  moment  regarding  the  look  of 
trouble  and  shame  that  spread  over  her 
unprotected  countenance — gladly  would  he 
have  veiled  it  from  his  sight — and  it  seemed 
like  the  gaze  of  the  avenging  angel,  down, 
deep  into  his  soul  it  burned. 

"Oh,  God  forgive  me!  Clarissa,  forgive 
me,  and  forget  that  I  deceived  you,  even  in 


158        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

my  love  for  you"  he  cried  in  a  piteous, 
entreating  voice  and  the  strong  man  bent 
his  head  upon  the  hand  he  took  and  held 
between  his  own. 

Gently  her  other  hand  was  raised  and  fell 
heavily  upon  the  bowed  head,  and  lay  there 
soothingly;  she  murmured  sorrowfully,  but 
firmly,  "Dr.  Acton,  I  forgive  you  as  I  hope 
to  be  forgiven,  and  as  I  pray  that  my  poor 
father  may  find  forgiveness." 

"Now,  Clarissa,  may  I  tell  you  why  I 
called  you  'darling'  and  'dear  one'?" — The 
slight,  soft,  chill  hand  pressed  his  own — 'twas 
all  the  answer  she  could  make,  and  the  pen 
itent  man  continued  earnestly,  putting  all 
tenderness  in  his  tones.  "It  is  because 
I  love  you,  and  ask  only  that  I  be  permit 
ted  to  love  you  and  care  for  you — now, 
tomorrow,  forever!"  His  frame  shook  with 
emotion;  he  raised  his  head  to  look  into 
her  face,  but  it  was  turned  aside — he  did 
not  meet  the  eyes  he  had  hoped  to  behold, 
but  his  ear  caught  her  murmured  response, 
"Some  other  time." 

We  need  not  follow  the  scene  further. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  all — everything  that 
medical  skill  could  do  or  fertile  ingenuity 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        159 

contrive  was  despatched  with  the  prompt 
ness  of  experience  and  love. 

Margery,  when  the  wounds  and  bruises 
had  been  dressed,  and  the  bed  of  pain  was 
made  as  soft  as  gentle  hands  could  make  it, 
was  left  to  watch  beside  Clarissa,  and  Dr. 
Acton  went  upon  the  errand  of  securing 
every  luxury  and  comfort  that  could  in  any 
way  contribute  to  her  ease  and  speedy  heal 
ing.  For  his  heart  was  in  this  work  as  it 
had  never  before  been  in  any  work  in  all 
his  life — and  yes,  he  was  happy;  he  would 
seek  that  "Some  other  time." 

As  he  passed  from  the  scene  of  suffering, 
he  picked  up  a  coal  miner's  cap,  and  regard 
ing  it  a  moment  put  it  into  his  satchel;  his 
mind  gathered  a  meaning  in  this  that  grew 
stranger  and  stranger  as  he  drove  away. 


CHAPTER  XII 

STICKING  TO  PRINCIPLES 

"The  heart  is  wiser  than  the  intellect, 
"And  works  with  swifter  hands  and  surer  feet 
,      "Toward  wise  conclusions." 

— Holland's    Kathrina. 

The  morning  after  his  return  from  Phil 
adelphia,  Luke  Darrell  called  at  the  office 
of  Supt.  Sumner,  and  when  he  met  the  eager 
questioning  gaze  of  that  gentlemen  he  smiled 
in  reply  reassuringly. 

"Ah,  what  luck,  Darrell?  You  seem  happy 
my  man!" 

Luke  coughed;  he  did  not  understand, 
himself,  why  he  had  looked  smiling  and  happy, 
for  his  feelings  were  most  serious. 

"Did  you  get  along  all  right  with  the 
directors,  sir?"  asked  the  Superintendent 
with  a  little  air  of  annoyance  at  the  man's 
manner. 

"Yes,  I  think  I  got  along  all  right,  sir;  not 
to  speak  boastfully,"  this  by  the  way  of 
modest  apology. 

160 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT         161 

"And  will  they  compromise,  Mr.  Darrell?" 
was  the  next  question. 

"That  I  do  not  know — yet,"  said  the 
miner  laconically. 

Still  further  irritated  by  Luke's  apparent 
moody  treatment,  Mr.  Sumner  thought  to  com 
pass  the  whole  matter  by  asking  him  for  a  de 
tailed  report  of  his  mission.  This  solved 
the  difficulty,  and  the  miner  entered  into 
an  enthusiastic  account  of  his  interview 
with  the  governing  board  of  the  Mother  Lode. 

When  he  had  finished  Mr.  Sumner  asked 
when  they  might  expect  the  promised  letter 
but  Luke  expressed  his  fears  that  the  time 
was  indefinite. 

"Well,  Mr.  Darrell,  something  must  be 
done  soon  as  matters  here  are  getting  in 
very  bad  shape." 

"What  is  the  trouble  now?  Has  anything 
else  occurred  since  my  absence,"  enquired 
Luke. 

"Well,  yes;  first  of  all  the  fellows  that  I 
was  obliged  to  turn  over  to  Corliss,  to  work 
in  the  Black  Diamond  have  taken  fifty  of 
our  hands,  three  more  are  under  arrest  for 
the  affair  at  the  'Four  Corners'  and  now  I 
have  just  received  this  note  from  the  Pit 


162        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

Boss  at  the  Mother  Lode."  He  handed  the 
paper  to  Luke. 

This  note  read,  "We  are  short  of  hands; 
it  seems  that  the  miners  are  falling  sick  all 
around  us.  Can't  you  return  the  Ital's 
and  Bohe's  we  lost  yesterday  morning?" 
(signed)  Dale. 

The  miner  shook  his  head  in  deep  thought 
for  a  moment.  "That's  bad.  What  can  be 
done?" 

"Ah,  that's  it!  what  can  be  done?  is  more 
than  I  can  tell.  I  have  just  'phoned  to 
Corliss  asking  for  the  return  of  the  men  I 
lent  him,  and  he  said  that  every  one  of  them 
had  asked  to  stay  in  the  Diamond's  works." 

"But  will  they  accept  them?  do  they  need 
them  so  badly?  Of  cpurse  there  is  a  matter 
of  honor  after  all  in  the  case!"  queried 
Luke. 

"Oh,  as  to  that  Corliss  was  quite  ready 
to  return  the  men, — to-morrow;  and  that 
would  be  as  early  as  I  could  justly  claim 
them;  but  he  replied  that  the  foreigners 
were  so  eager  for  some  reason  to  hire  to 
the  Black  Diamond  outright." 

"Strange!"  said  Luke.  "No,  I  see  it; 
it's  as  plain  as  daylight." 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT         163 

"What  is  plain,  Mr  Darrell,"  quickly  en 
quired  the  Superintendent. 

"Why,  it  is  just  this  way" — said  the  miner 
making  some  imaginary  diagrams  on  the  table 
before  him,  "Here  is  the  Mother  Lode,  and 
trouble  among  the  men;  there  is  the  Black 
Diamond  and  no  one  to  interfere.  Again,  if 
they  return  to  our  works  they  must  look  for 
a  'cut'  on  the  first:  Have  the  Diamond  people 
posted  a  reduction?"  and  the  workingman 
looked  up  at  his  superior  meaningly. 

"Right,  man,  right!"  exclaimed  his  com 
panion.  "Now,  what  is  so  be  done?  If 
these  things  continue  and  this  epidemic  of 
disease  grows  any  worse  we  shall  soon  be 
without  men  to  tend  the  pumps  even." 

The  miner  mused  thoughtfully:  "It  would 
be  a  strange  solution  of  our  plans,  Mr.  Sum- 
ner,"  he  observed. 

"Our  plans!  what  has  this  to  do  with 
our  plans?  with  anybody's  plans?  I  should 
think  such  a  calamity  would  call  for  very 
decisive  and  drastic  measures,"  returned 
the  Superintendent,  emphatically,  seriously. 

"Ah,  you  forget,  Mr.  Sumner,  that  I  went 
to  Philadelphia  yesterday  to  place  certain 
plans  before  the  directors." 


164        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"Yes,  I  recollect — but  I  don't  see  that 
such  difficulties  can  solve  the  problem  that 
confronts  us  now,  and  least  of  all  how  they 
can  cause  the  adoption  of  our  plans?"  com 
plained  the  manager. 

"Nor  I — altogether,  sir."  The  brief  res 
ponse  came  decisively.  Both  sat  in  silence 
some  minutes. 

"But  it  is  a  solution  after  all."  Luke 
moved  his  chair  nearer  to  the  table,  indicating 
that  his  thought  had  taken  tangible  shape. 

"Mr.  Darrell,  you  have  been  a  bundle  of 
enigmas  this  morning — what  is  the  matter? 
You  have  impressed  me  heretofore  as  a  very 
clear-headed  fellow;  are  you  in  love?"  play 
fully  challenged  the  manager. 

"Well,  I  may  be  that,  Mr.  Sumner;  for 
a  man  scarcely  reaches  the  good  round  years 
of  six-and-twenty  without  passing  that  fatal 
milestone,  and  yet  if  my  actions  have  seemed 
strange  to  you,  you  need  not  lay  it  to  that 
score."  Luke  took  up  a  piece  of  paper  ly 
ing  loose  upon  the  table.  "Let  me  explain," 
he  continued,  "I  have  been  in  a  brown 
study,  nay,  a  very  black  one,  if  you  please; 
for  I  came  to  the  conclusion  last  night  that 
there  was  no  way  out  of  the  present  difficulty, 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        165 

excepting  to  continue  the  present  wages; 
my  belief  is  that  the  directors  will  not  offer 
any  relief  and  the  men  will  'go  out'  on  the 
first." 

"You  seriously  think  so,  Darrell?"  inter 
rupted  Mr.  Sumner. 

"Well?  of  course  it  may  be  prevented, 
and  we  must  do  all  we  can;  but  I  am  certain 
that  wages  have  reached  the  bottom.  I 
really  expected  that  the  foreigners  you  sent 
away  yesterday  would  not  return — unless 
the  Black  Diamond  was  to  follow  our  Com 
pany's  example." 

"I  see,  I  see?  Of  course  we  must  meet 
competition  on  both  hands,  Darrell."  The 
Superintendent  was  awake  now;  he  real 
ized  that  he  had  been  napping. 

"The  Diamond  people  may  stand  firm,  how 
ever,  and  not  entice  your  men  by  giving 
them  work;  in  fact,  they  may  have  all  the 
miners  they  need,"  suggested  Luke. 

"Now  what  can  be  done?  We  must  have 
men;  we  can  make  a  call  upon  the  agencies." 

"And  still  reduce  wages?  Never!  The 
news  of  a  'Cut'  will  make  it  difficult  to  in 
duce  men  to  come  here;  then  there  is  the 
transportation  and," — the  speaker  looked 


166        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

closely  at  the  Superintendent — "the  men 
at  your  works  will  be  sure  to  strike — they 
will  see  a  double  reason  for  doing  so;  a  re 
duction  and  a  fresh  importation." 

Mr.  Sumner  evinced    the    despair   he   felt. 

"Do  not  feel  so  downhearted,  sir,"  en 
couraged  the  miner.  "You  were  of  the 
opinion  yesterday  that  some  concessions  ought 
to  be  made  by  the  Company;  are  you  still 
of  that  mind?" 

"Entirely,  Darrell,  entirely;  but  conditions 
have  changed;  what  is  the  philosophy  of  the 
new  conditions,  answer  that?" 

"This  is  your  competitive  system  again,  but 
one  phase  of  it  that  is  in  favor  of  labor.  If 
the  epidemic  and  other  like  calamities  were 
to  give  us  a  stringent  labor  market,  labor 
would  go  up  and  the  whole  system  would 
suffer  in  consequence.  As  it  is  now  we  only 
see  the  Mother  Lode  at  a  disadvantage. 
The  Company  must  maintain  wages  for  the 
present  at  least." 

Dr.  Acton  entered  the  office. 

"Ah,  good  morning,  Doctor.  Come  right 
in.  How's  everything  this  morning,  Doc 
tor?"  Mr.  Sumner  spoke. 

"I    should    say    that    everything    is    bad; 


very  bad,"  and  the  distraught  man  drop 
ped  into  a  chair. 

Both  the  miner  and  the  manager  started. 
"Is  it  so  serious  after  all,  Dr.  Acton,"  ven 
tured  Mr.  Sumner. 

"Most  serious,  sir,"  and  he  tossed  a  miner's 
cap  onto  the  table  before  them  and  glanced 
toward  the  door  into  the  main  office.  It 
was  closed.  "Mr.  Sumner,  Luke,"  he  began, 
"we  must  find  the  owner  of  that  cap." 

Again  the  others  started  and  fixed  a  ques 
tioning  look  upon  the  strangely  agitated  doctor. 

"Please  explain,  my  good  man;  what  has 
happened?  and  how  can  this,"  picking  up 
the  greasy  and  soot-begrimed  cap,  "or  its 
owner  concern  us?" 

The  physician  told  what  he  had  seen  at 
the  home  of  the  Watsons  (omitting  the 
little  details  that  concerned  only  himself, 
of  course)  and  also  how  he  had  found  the  cap 
in  front  of  the  house  He  also  related  how 
he  had  mislead  Clarissa  into  beleiving  that 
Gaudio  was  better  and  the  discovery  on 
his  part  that  she  had  learned  the  truth  of 
the  matter. 

After  a  brief  conference  it  was  determined 
to  report  the  case  to  the  legal  authorities, 


168         THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

and  to  give  out  that  Miss  Watson  was  ill, 
perhaps  with  the  prevailing  malady,  and 
together  they  would  try  and  ferret  the  per 
petrators  of  the  fell  deed. 

"We  are  having  a  great  deal  of  sickness 
in  the  settlement,  are  we  not,  Doctor?" 
asked  Mr.  Sumner.  Here,  read  this,"  hand 
ing  him  the  note  from  the  Pit  Boss. 

"Yes,  more  than  I  can  attend  to;  ah,  I 
see,"  returning  the  note.  "I  was  just  about 
to  come  here  to  suggest  that  we  telegraph 
to  the  general  office  to  send  me  an  assistant 
from  Philadelphia,  but  somehow  I  neglected 
it;  oh,  I  recollect  now — it  was  the  discovery 
of  Clarissa — the  Watson  g — ,  Miss  Watson, 
I  mean,"  the  color  and  his  confusion  al 
most  betraying  the  secret  his  heart  would 
keep. 

"She  is  a  most  estimable  young  woman, 
I  beleive,  is  she  not,  Mr.  Darrell?"  said  Mr. 
Sumner  recalling  how  she  had  asked  the 
men  to  cheer  Luke  at  the  shaft. 

The  young  doctor  looked  more  confused. 
Luke  looked  at  the  floor.  Mr.  Sumner  looked 
at  each  a  moment,  and  then — out  of  the 
window. 

"I  will  telegraph  at  once,  Doctor;  you  must 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        169 

have  help,"  taking  a  blank  from  the  drawer. 
"Mr.  Darrell,  take  that  cap  in  your  pocket, 
and  try  your  powers  as  a  detective.  I  believe 
if  any  man  can  get  at  the  bottom  of  that  case, 
you  can.  By  the  way,"  he  added,  "I  shall 
send  a  warm  letter  to  President  Crosby 
at  once — and  may  I  use  some  of  your  ideas, 
sir?"  looking  at  Luke. 

"Yes,  sir;  they  are  yours,  too,  I  hope. 
I  trust  they  may  see  things  right  down  at 
the  city."  Luke  took  his  hat.  "Good  morn 
ing,  Doctor;  good  morning,  Mr.  Sumner." 
The  door  closed  after  him. 

"That,  sir,  is  the  bravest,  brainiest  man 
I  know,  and  he  is  every  inch  a  gentleman, 
Dr.  Acton." 

"Thank  you  for  my  absent  friend,"  res 
ponded  the  doctor.  "I  have  an  abiding 
faith  in  his  future  career." 

"I  should  like  to  go  over  the  talk  I  have 
just  had  with  him,  but  neither  of  us  have 
time  just  now;  some  other  time,  Doctor." 
The  young  man  winced  at  his  words,  "Some 
other  time," — and  we  understand. 

"You  will  attend  to  notifying  the  au 
thorities,  will  you  not,  Dr.  Acton?" 

It  was  so  arranged  and  they  parted,  each 


170        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

to  take  up  the  thread  of  his  own  peculiar 
duties — the  thread  seemed  like  a  cable  to 
the  physician,  and  it  was  pulling  him  toward 
a  humble  abode  in  the  distant  part  of  the 
village. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

CLUTCHES  OF  THE  LAW 

"Better  'twere 

"I  snatched  him  in  his  sleep,  and  dashed  him  'gainst 
"The  rocks,  than  let  him  live  to — " 

— Byron's  Cain. 

On  learning  of  the  death  of  the  Italian, 
Gaudio,  a  charge  of  murder  was  entered 
against  the  three  men  who  had  been  ar 
rested  pending  the  result  of  his  injuries. 
At  the  preliminary  examination  the  evi 
dence  of  Dr.  Acton  and  the  ante-mortem 
affidavit  of  the  Italian  were  considered  of 
sufficient  gravity  to  warrant  the  holding 
of  Burly  Pete  as  the  principal,  while  Jack 
Farnam  and  Watson  were  named  as  ac 
cessories.  These  latter  two  were  admitted 
to  bail  with  Herbert  Acton  and  Ralph  Sumner 
as  sureties.  Thus  so  far  as  the  little  village 
of  Carbon  Vale  was  concerned  the  incident 
was,  for  the  present,  closed. 

Worry,  somewhat  subdued  and  chop-fallen, 
upon  being  liberated,  sought  his  humble 
171 


172        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

home,  now  more  cheerless  than  ever,  since 
its  brightest  luminary  and  sweet  comforter 
was  still  lying  quite  helpless  upon  her  bed 
of  pain.  When  his  step  sounded  through 
the  outer  room,  and,  ignorant  of  the  condition 
of  his  daughter,  he  pushed  a  chair  beside 
the  heap  of  dull  coals  in  the  dingy  fire-place, 
dropping  sullenly  into  the  seat,  he  mused 
over  the  disagreeable  events  of  the  past 
few  days . 

"Who  is  there?  Is  that  you,  Dr.  Acton?" 
called  the  feeble  voice  of  the  girl  from  her 
couch. 

"It's  me — your  father^  child  Why  should 
you  suppose  it  was  the  doctor?"  he  replied 
in  tones  none  too  tender. 

"Oh,  father,  come  to  me,  dear!  I  can 
not  rise.  And  you  are  free;  you  are  free 
at  last,  thank  God,"  and  she  endeavored 
to  rise  to  meet  her  parent  who  quickly 
sought  her  side. 

"My  child!  Rissey  dear,  what  is  this?" 
His  eyes  rested  surprised  and  sorrowful 
upon  her  bandaged  head  and  outstretched 
arm. 

"Nothing  very  serious,  father;  I  shall 
soon  be  all  right  again,  thanks  to  Dr.  Acton, 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        173 

and  Margery's  tender  nursing."  She  looked 
upon  him  fctadly  and  caressed  his  rough 
cheek  as  he  bent  to  kiss  her.  "But  tell 
me,  father,  dear,  are  you  free  and  will  they 
not  punish  you  for — for  that  awful — deed?" 
The  word  'crime'  was  on  her  lips,  but  she  could 
not  utter  the  hateful  thought. 

"Well,  Rissy,"  he  turned  his  face  aside, 
for  shame  he  would  not  let  her  see  was  written 
there,  "they  have  taken  Burly  Pete  to  Read 
ing;  Jack  and  me  are  let  out — on  bail." 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad!  and  now  we  may  be  happy 
again;  it  was  so  lonesome  here  except  when — ." 
She  did  not  finish  the  entence. 

"Except  when?"  enquired  the  father! 

"I  have  had  such  tender  care,  dear!  every 
body  has  been  kind  to  me,  father,"  and  her 
face  brightened  even  more  at  the  sweet  rec 
ollection  of  her  many  friends  in  suffering. 

"And  who  have  been  kind  to  you,  girl?" 
he  asked  with  a  show  of  much  genuine  interest, 
for  Worry  Watson  loved  his  child  as  much 
as  natures  like  his  could  love. 

"Oh,  Dr.  Acton  and  Margery  most  of  all; 
but  I  owe  much  to  Luke  Darrell  and  his  good 
mother,  and  to  the  father  of  little  Margery; 
you  know  Mark  Waring,  father?" 


174        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"Yes,  Rissy,  I  know  'im.  But  what  has 
happened  to  you;  have  you  hurt  yourself, 
my  child?"  he  again  questioned  her. 

"Very  badly,  father;  but  you  must  not 
mind  that;  I  shall  soon  be  well.  Many, 
very  many  of  the  people  in  the  settlement 
are  sick;  it  is  a  sort  of  epidemic,"  she  an 
swered  trying  to  lead  his  mind  to  other 
things. 

"You  do  say  so,  Rissy!  Then  you  are 
only  ill  of  the  epidemic,  hey?"  and  his  curi 
osity  was  quieted  for  a  moment. 

The  house-door  opened  and  a  light  foot-fall 
was  heard  in  the  outer  room. 

"Is   that   you,   Margery?"    called    Clarissa. 

The  child  hurried  to  her,  "Yes,  dear;  I 
have  come  in  to  bring  you  some  supper. 
Oh!"  and  she  started  back  as  she  beheld 
the  rough  man  before  her. 

"Come  right  in,  Margery,"  said  the  in 
valid,  "this  is  my  father,  dear." 

"I  did  not  know — I  thought — I  never 
remember  seeing  you  before,  sir."  She  bowed 
in  child-like  courtesy  to  the  miner. 

"Now  I  will  bring  in  your  supper,"  and 
she  went  to  fetch  it — "Here,  Clarissa,  is 
some  tea — I  may  have  to  warm  it  again," 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        175 

feeling  the  little  pitcher;  "yes,  it's  quite 
cold;  and  there  is  some  nice  slices  of  bread, 
I'll  toast  that  by  the  coals  while  the  tea  is 
warming.  See!  these  are  little  cakes — and 
here!  ain't  that  pretty?"  holding  up  a  tiny 
glass  of  red  preserve,  "real  currant  jell,  my 
dear !"  thus  she  chattered  in  her  childish  glee. 

"You  have  a  feast  fit  for  a  king,  Margery," 
said  the  young  lady  smiling. 

"A  queen,  you  mean;  and  such  a  dear, 
dear  queen,"  and  dropping  upon  her  knees 
beside  the  low  couch  she  kissed  the  pale 
cheek  of  the  sick  girl. 

"How  I  wish  I  had  you  for  a  sister,  Clarissa; 
you  are  so  good  and  kind;  perhaps  I  could 
learn  to  be  like  you,"  and  she  looked  so 
eagerly  into  the  other's  eyes. 

"Oh,  you  little  Miss  Modesty! — yes,  I 
am  going  to  call  you  my  Miss  Modesty. 
To  think  how  good,  and  kind,  and  cheering 
you  have  been  to  me!"  the  sufferer  stopped 
for  the  tears  filled  her  large,  lustrous,  eyes 
and  a  something  choked  her  utterance. 

This  scene  was  too  much  for  Worry,  and, 
before  the  girls  had  noticed,  he  had  gone; 
he  closed  the  door  noiselessly  and  hurried 
out  toward  the  business  section.  When 


176        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

Margery    sought    him    he    had    disappeared. 

"My  poor  father!"  exclaimed  the  daughter. 
"How  my  heart  aches  for  you." 

"He  will  be  home  again  soon,  dear,"  comforted 
the  child.  "Now  I  must  attend  to  your  sup 
per,"  and  she  busied  herself  for  some  mo 
ments  in  the  adjoining  room. 

When  she  returned  with  the  fragrant 
tea  and  crisp  toast,  Clarissa  put  her  hand 
softly  on  her  arm,  and  bestowed  a  look  of 
loving  gratitude. 

"And  you  got  all  these  nice  things  for  me, 
Margery?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  no,  indeed!  I  only  had  the  bread; 
and  then  father  gave  me  a  nickle — that 
bought  the  cakes.  Mrs.  Darrell  sent  the 
tea  and  the  jell."  She  would  not  take  credit 
for  what  did  not  belong  to  her! 

"Dear,  good  hearts.  We  do  not  know 
how  others  love  us,  until  a  great  misfortune 
overtakes  us."  She  glanced  around  the  room 
for  some  moments,  her  eyes  resting  upon 
first  one  comfort  or  luxury,  then  another, 
in  happy  contemplation  of  each.  Her  face 
beamed  with  pleasure,  and  for  the  time 
she  forgot  the  tempting  repast  before  her. 
She  was  thinking  of  the  change  that  had 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        177 

come  over  her  heart — no,  not  a  change, 
but  rather  the  discovery  her  recent  exper 
ience  had  brought.  She  thought  of  the 
hansdome,  gentle  man  who  had  held  her 
hand  and  vowed  such  strange  things,  and,  oh, 
had  made  her  life  so  strangely  different. 
Would  he  speak  to  her  thus,  again? — would 
he  fill  her  ears  with  such  sweet  promises, 
and  lift  her  poor  wretched  heart  with  such 
exquisite  hopes?  He  had  never,  in  his  many 
visits  during  the  past  few  days,  recurred 
to  the  scene  of  that  delightfully  happy  mo 
ment.  All  his  words  and  acts  had  been  com 
mon-place,  except  that  Dr.  Acton  was  al 
ways  gentle  and  tender, — he  was  gentle  and 
tender  to  everyone  for  that  matter.  No, 
there  was  nothing  in  either  words  or  manner 
she  recalled,  that  could  possibly  lead  her 
to  think  he  was  mindful  of  that  precious 
moment  in  her  life.  Her  eyes  filled  with 
tears  she  could  not  repress,  as  she  thought 
that  perhaps  all  her  gladness  was  only  a 
transient  dream. 

"O  God  pity  me! — and  bless  him!"  she  mur 
mured. 

"Why,  Miss,  you  are  letting  your  tea  get  cold. 
Will  you  not  eat  a  bit,  dear?"  urged  Margery. 


178        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"Ah-h!  yes,  child;  and  I  am  quite  hun 
gry,  too,"  replied  Clarissa! 

"Then  eat  like  you  were  hungry;  you 
must  not  be  thinking  too  much  of  your 
father  and  his  troubles.  They  say  that  Dr. 
Acton  and  Mr.  Sumner  stood  for  his  free 
dom."  The  invalid  started. 

"Do  you  know  anything  more  about  it, 
Margery?" 

"Nothing,  only  father  said  it  would  not 
go  hard  with  Mr.  Watson,  for  he  was  dr — ; 
oh,  excuse  me,  Clarissa,"  she  pleaded  both 
by  word  and  look. 

"There,  child,  there!"  in  pardoning  tones, 
"I  understand."  Clarissa  sipped  of  her  tea. 
"Oh  how  nice  that  is!  You  are  a  capital 
cook,  darling.'' 

Margery  was  glad  to  find  that  her  charge 
had  eaten  quite  heartily  of  the  tempting 
food.  She  smoothed  the  pillow  and  laid 
the  sore,  weary  head  upon  it  again.  Then 
she  gathered  up  the  remnants  and  care 
fully  stowed  them  on  a  shelf. 

"I'll  wait  a  little,  Clarissa,"  when  she  had 
finished;  "Dr.  Acton  told  me  that  the  night 
nurse  would  come  early." 

"How  thoughtful  you  all  are."     She  turned 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          179 

her  face  toward  the  wall.  "Did  Dr.  Acton 
say  he  would  come  again,  today?"  she  asked, 
blushing  at  her  own  question. 

"Oh,  he  will  be  here,  Miss;  he  always 
takes  good  care  of  his  patients,"  declared 
she  artlessly. 

Luke  Darrell  on  leaving  the  Company's 
office  with  the  cap  in  his  pocket  had  walked 
directly  to  the  house  of  the  Watsons.  He 
decided  that  if  he  was  to  act  as  detective 
in  the  case  to  which  he  had  been  called, 
he  must  begin  at  the  right  end.  If  anyone 
had  been  so  careless  as  to  lose  a  cap  at  the 
scene  of  the  tragedy,  perhaps  other  evidence 
could  be  secured  that  would  assist  in  finding 
the  perpetrators  of  the  dreadful  deed.  Quiet 
ly  he  searched  the  ground  in  front  of  the  house, 
and  soon  had  his  pains  rewarded  by  the 
discovery  of  foot-prints  of  a  peculiar  and  un 
mistakable  shape.  In  order  that  these  might 
not  be  obliterated  by  the  sun's  heat — that 
would  soon  fall  upon  the  soft  snow — he 
covered  these  tell-tale  tracks  with  some  bits 
of  board  that  lay  at  hand.  Then  he  looked 
about  to  find  if  possible  the  direction  in 
which  these  approached  or  receded  from  the 
hut.  In  this,  too,  he  was  equally  fortunate, 


180        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

for  he  found  just  these  very  shoe  marks 
leading  away  toward  the  Black  Diamond 
settlement.  While  pursuing  this  absorbing 
occupation  he  suddenly  ran  up  against  a 
man  approaching  from  the  opposite  direction. 

"Ah,     your    pardon,     sir,"     he     exclaimed. 

"Well,  well,  friend  Darrell,"  rejoined 
the  other,  "if  it  was  many  another  fellow 
in  these  parts,  I  should  say  he  was  the  worse 
off  for  liquor."  He  laughed  pleasantly. 

"Oh  ho!  Mark;  and  you  are  out,  I  see;  do 
you  begin  to  feel  all  right  again,  old  fellow?" 
enquired  Luke. 

"Well,  not  all  right,  Darrell;  but  I  can  get 
out  a  little.  I  came  over  to  watch  a  few 
moments  with  Miss  Watson;  :you  have  heard 
of  her  case,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes — yes;  I  have  heard;  but  see  here, 
Mark,  we  must  not  have  this  matter  talked 
about;  there  has  been  some  foul  play  here, 
and  we  are  trying  to  get  at  it;  if  too  much 
is  said  about  the  settlement,  it  may  give 
the  alarm,  and  we  shall  fail  to  catch  our 
game,"  continued  Luke. 

"Aye,  aye,  sir;  I  told  Margery  —  she's 
my  little  girl,  sir — I  told  her  that  the  case 
was  like  that,  and  I  just  said  to  her,  'keep  quiet' 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        181 

and  Margery  has  a  wise  head — it  'keepeth  a 
still  tongue',  you  know,"  reassuring  his  friend. 

"That's  right,  Waring;  does  anybody  else 
know?  We  can  just  say  it's  the  epidemic," 
suggested  Luke. 

"None  know,  I  guess,  but  Dr.  Acton  and 
Margery — and  you  and  me,"  replied  the  man. 

"Well,  that's  quite  enough;  we'll  keep 
it  down  to  that  number.  Going  to  the 
Watson  house,  then?  Well,  I'll  go  with  you 
for  a  moment;  I  want  to  see  the  injured 
girl;  perhaps  we  can  then  walk  home  to 
gether,"  and  the  man  in  the  role  of  detective 
followed  Mark  toward  the  house. 

Here  Luke  gently  put  questions  to  Clarissa 
and  learned  for  the  first  time  what  had  oc 
curred  at  the  time  of  her  misfortune. 

Some  few  minutes  after  she  had  returned 
from  the  jail  with  Dr.  Acton,  she  had  been 
startled  by  a  loud  angry  voice,  and  on  the 
instant  the  door  opened  revealing  two  rough- 
visaged  men.  They  were  demanding  in  brok 
en  English,  with  menacing  threats,  that 
Worry*  should  show  himself.  This,  Clarissa 
had  told  them  was  impossible  as  he  was  not 
at  home;  to  this  information  they  showed 
much  doubt,  and,  violently  seizing  her,  had 


182         THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

declared  that  the  Italian  Gaudio  had  died 
and  that  the  father  of  the  girl  was  one  of  his 
murderers.  To  this  she  had  stoutly  returned 
denial — Dr.  Acton  had  mislead  her  into  be- 
leiving  that  Gaudio  was  out  of  danger — and 
she  momentarily  resented  the  charge  of 
murder  flung  upon  her  household.  At  this 
denial  they  became  even  more  angry;  and, 
although  she  was  unable  to  interpret  their 
language,  the  gestures  and  threatening  looks 
of  the  men  told  her  that  they  had  learned 
positively  of  the  injured  man's  death,  and 
that  they  proposed  wreaking  vengeance  on 
her  father;  finally,  exasperated  at  not  finding 
the  man,  and  perhaps  fearing  that  she  might 
betray  them,  they  fell  to  blows  upon  her; 
beyond  that  all  was  dark,  until  the  morn 
ing  brought  Dr.  Acton  to  the  relief  of  her 
suffering. 

When  the  story  was  finally  finished,  after 
much  painful  effort  on  the  part  of  the  victim 
of  these  horrors,  Margery  returned  and 
Darrell  and  Waring  left  the  house  in  company. 

"I  am  doing  a  little  bit  of  investigating 
in  this  case,  you  see,  Mark,"  ventured  the 
amateur  detective  as  they  emerged  upon 
the  street,  "and  I  want  your  help." 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        183 

"You  have  taken  to  the  detective  pro 
fession,  then,"  suggested  Waring;  ."I  shall 
be  only  too  glad  to  help  you.  What  can 
I  do  ,  sir?" 

"Tell  me,  where  will  I  find  the  foreign 
quarters  over  at  the  Diamond's  settlement?" 
enquired  Luke. 

The  situation  of  these  houses  was  explained 
by  the  man;  he  was  quite  familiar  with  the 
whole  topography  of  the  place.  The  dis 
covery  of  the  foot-prints  was  then  made 
known  to  his  companion,  while  Luke  care 
fully  uncovered  and  recovered  the  tracks 
as  before.  They  also  together  followed  these 
until  they  disappeared  completely  upon  the 
hard  beaten  path;  they  concluded,  however, 
that  the  feet  which  had  made  them,  had  car 
ried  the  desperadoes,  straight  to  the  Black 
Diamond  settlement.  Thither  Luke  went, 
admonishing  the  crippled  man  to  return  to 
his  home  and  take  good  care  of  his  poor  mut 
ilated  limb. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IN  THE  TOILS  OF  THE  TEMPTER 

"Than  entered  Satan  into  Judas,  surnamed  Iscariot, 
being  of  the  number  of  the  twelve." 

— St.  Luke. 

The  morning  of  December  first  came  at 
last,  but  no  intimation  that  the  hateful 
reduction  would  not  stand  had  reached  the 
men.  In  response  to  Supt.  Sumner's  urgent 
request  for  relief  of  some  kind,  a  few  hands 
had  been  shipped  in  from  other  places,  and 
the  promise  of  still  fresh  importations  was 
hinted. 

The  much  talked-of  day  brought  Pres 
ident  Crosby  and  another  of  the  Board  of 
Directors  to  Carbon  Vale;  the  reports  of 
Mr.  Sumner  warned  them  that  it  might  be 
necessary  to  give  some  personal  assistance 
to  their  manager  by  way  of  counsel  and 
direction  under  these  strained  conditions. 

"We  shall  advise  you  to  show  the  miners 
every  consideration,"  continued  Mr.  Crosby, 
184 


after  a  long  consultation  with  the  man  of 
affairs,  at  his  office.  "I  should  say,  be  easy 
on  all;  do  not  let  the  bosses  be  too  exacting 
about  little  things;  the  mines  are  now  in 
good  condition,  you  report,  and  it  is  well 
that  it  is  so.  I  believe  the  water  is  now  com 
pletely  under  control  since  we  put  in  those 
new  rotary  pumps;  you  find  they  work  ad 
mirably,  do  you  not,  Mr.  Sumner?" 

The  answer  was  in  the  affirmative. 

"Well  and  as  to  gas;  we  have  had  no  gas 
troubles  for  some  time;  in  fact,  I  do  not 
believe  there  is  a  thimble  full  of  'fire  damp' 
in  the  mines.  By  the  way,  we  have  been 
investigating  some  improved  electric  lights 
for  miners'  use,  that  we  expect  will  super 
sede  the  old  Davy;  it  will  d'o  away  with  a 
great  nuisance.  Have  we  the  open  lamps 
in  sufficient  supply?  We  have?  Well,  then, 
permit  the  men  to  use  the  open  lamps; — they 
generally  like  them  better; — yes,  humor  them 
that  much,  and  in  any  other  way  you  think 
best." 

"You  advise  the  use  of  the  open  lamp, 
then?"  questioned  the  Superintendent,  in 
great  astonishment. 

"Why,    certainly;    there    is    no    danger    in 


186        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  cases  out 
of  a  thousand,  and  the  present  condition 
of  the  Mother  Lode  workings  eliminates 
that  one-thousandth.  Now,  you  see."  he 
went  on,  "many  of  the  men  are  off  on  ac 
count  of  this  epidemic;  and  two  of  the  leaders, 
I  am  told, — these  fellows  that  are  out  on 
bail, — are  practically  quieted;  we  have  put 
in  only  a  few  men — only  a  few  more  than 
enough  to  make  up  for  the  fellows  you  sent 
to  the  Black  Diamond — say,  Sumner,  that 
was  a  double  service  you  did  us;  guess  you 
built  better  than  you  knew,  that  time," 
stroking  the  manager's  arm. 

"By  the  time  pay  day  comes  around," 
resumed  the  head  of  the  Company,  "most 
of  our  old  crew  will  accept  the  new  rates 
without  a  word,  and  of  course  the  new  ones 
we  shall  put  on  will  go  to  work  with  noth 
ing  better  before  them;  do  you  see  Sumner?" 

"Perhaps  so — I  hope  so,  sir,  if  the  'cut' 
must  stand,"  replied  the  Superintendent. 

"Stand?  Why  of  course!  We  must  make 
it  stand." 

And  with  emphasis  Henry  Crosby  rose 
to  his  feet.  "Let  us  go  about  a  little;  per 
haps,  if  we  are  seen  in  the  settlement  it  may 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        187 

have  a  good  effect;  really,  I  begin  to  believe 
we  ought  to  show  more  of  a  personal  interest 
in  our  dependents,"  and  the  president  of 
the  Mother  Lode  stroked  his  beard  and  looked 
wise  and  confidential,  as  though  he  had  fur 
nished  the  world  with  an  original  thought 
and  was  giving  it  now  to  his  friend,  in  ad 
vance  of  the  world. 

Mr.  Sumner  looked  straight  at  him,  "You 
are  right  in  that,  Mr.  Crosby;  please  keep 
on  thinking  that,  sir;  and  let  it  be  genuine 
interest,  too."  He  concluded  with  con 
siderable  warmth. 

Mr.  Crosby  coughed;  he  had  not  meant 
so  much  as  he  had  said;  at  least  in  the  sense 
in  which  Ralph  Sumner  took  it.  "Where  is  your 
friend — what's  his  name? — the  fellow  you 
sent  up  to  the  city  about  the  plan?"  with 
a  peculiar,  ironical  emphasis  on  "plan." 

"Mr.  Darrell  you  allude  to,  sir,"  said  with 
just  a  little  seasoning  of  scorn.  "Mr.  Darrell 
returned  to  the  mines  this  morning.  He 
has  been  laid  up  with  a  bad  hand — got  it 
on  account  of  standing  by  tjie  Company 
on  this  reduction,  sir — Luke  Darrell  is  a 
most  excellent  gentlemen,  Mr.  Crosby." 

"Gentleman?     Why,  Sumner,  are  you  turn- 


188        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

ing  Socialist;  that  fellow  is  chuck  full  of 
socialism.  We  bored  his  scheme  through 
and  through  in  the  conference  that  followed 
his  talk;  of  course,  I  knew  that  he  was  your 
friend,  so  I  did  not  want  to  offend  you,  or 
affront  him,  and  so  I  let  him  get  away  first. 
Oh,  no,  never!  why  his  plan's  all  'rot'  as 
the  politicians  and  newspapers  say  it." 

"Well,  nevertheless,  I  am  willing  to  stake 
my  reputation  that  Luke  Darrell  is  one  of 
the  truest,  wisest,  and  brainiest  men  in  the 
employ  of  the  Mother  Lode;  I  am  willing 
to  make  a  few  exceptions,  sir,  for  courtesy's  sake 
but  I  do  not  except  myself." 

"No,  if  you  are  going  daft  on  such  social 
istic  ideas  as  that  fellow  Darrell  carries, 
you  certainly  ought  not  to  except  your 
self.  Eh,  Sumner?"  and  Mr.  Crosby  indulged 
in  a  coarse,  bantering  laugh! 

The  gentlemen  made  quite  a  tour  through 
the  settlement  and  inspected  the  diggings. 
The  Mother  Lode's  dignified  president  met 
the  bosses  and  engineers  with  a  hearty  hand 
shake  and  bestowed  a  gracious  bow  upon 
many  a  humble  toiler  in  the  mines.  He 
personally  directed  the  Pit  Boss  and  Fire 
Inspector  to  permit  the  use  of  the  open 


THE.  SILENT  CONFLICT        189 

lamps,  and  accord  every  possible  freedom 
to  the  miners. 

"Yes,  yes,  we  must  show  these  poor,  hard 
working  fellows  that  a  corporation  has  a 
heart;  hey,  Sumner?"  They  were  convers 
ing  with  Pit  Boss  Dale,  at  the  bottom  of 
the  shaft.  "Now  that  light  is  very  poor, 
Dale,"  confidentially;  "just  give  the  men 
those  open  lamps;  it'll  please  em,  you  know. 
Mr.  Sumner  will  issue  an  order  to  that  effect, 
but  you  may  as  well  begin  at  once — I'll 
have  Sumner  get  out  the  order  today.  Well, 
goodbye,  Dale;  keep  the  men  in  good  humor." 
The  head  official  shook  the  hand  of  the 
man  cordially.  When  the  hand  was  with 
drawn  the  Boss  beheld  a  shining  gold  piece. 
"Now,  Sumner,  we'll  go  back  to  Earth — Up, 
up!  Will  we  never  get  to  the  top?"  He 
sighed  relief,  when  at  last  he  stood  in  the 
free  air  and  sunlight. 

When  an  hour  later  President  Crosby 
stood  on  the  station  platform  preparatory 
to  boarding  the  train  bound  for  Philadelphia, 
he  addressed  the  superintendent. 

"Oh,  about  the  order,  to  permit  the  use 
of  the  open  lamps.  You  need  not  make 
a  formal  order,  unless  I  direct  you  to  do  so 


190        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

later.  Good-bye,  Sumner;  keep  a  stiff  upper 
lip;  all  will  come  out  right  yet."  He  waved 
his  gloved  hand  and  entered  the  train  which 
was  soon  speeding  cityward. 


CHAPTER  XV 

WARNED  NOT  ALWAYS  FORE-ARMED 

King  Henry — Upon  that  I  kiss  your  hand,  and    I  call 
you  my  queen. 

— Shakespeare's    King    Henry    V. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Doctor;  walk  right  in, 
sir;  this  is  a  stormy  night!  Mother,  here 
is  Dr.  Acton." 

The  speaker  was  the  co-conspirator  of  the 
guest  for  the  defense  of  vested  capital. 

"Well,  Luke,  what  is  the  situation  in  the 
mines?  Is  there  much  discontent  shown 
by  the  men?"  taking  the  proffered  chair. 
"Ah,  good  evening,  Mrs.  Darrell;  I  hope 
you  are  well,  madam?"  rising  again  to  ac 
knowledge  the  cheery  greetings  of  the  aged 
woman. 

"How  are  your  patients,  Doctor? — you 
could  scarcely  answer  that  question,  I  fear; 
but  is  the  La  Grippe,  I  believe  you  call  it 
now, — are  there  any  new  cases?" 

"Yes,  there  is  much  sickness,  and  several 
191 


192        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

new  cases  have  made  their  appearance  to 
day.  Dr.  Wendt, — he  is  the  new  doctor 
from  Philadelphia, — and  I  have  our  hands 
full."  The  physician  looked  wearied  and 
troubled. 

"And  Clarissa — Miss  Watson,  I  mean; 
is  she  improving?"  asked  Luke. 

Dr.  Acton  colored  at  the  familiar  mention 
of  the  girl's  name.  "Yes,  she  is  improving 
slowly.  That  was  a  very  sad  affair." 

"Very  sad.  Doctor.  But  I  am  now  in 
possession  of  some  pretty  good  evidence 
against  the  perpetrators."  He  looked  seri 
ous — no  shade  of  pleasure  disturbing  his 
handsome  face. 

"Indeed?  and  may  I  know  what  you  have 
found  out?"  returned  the  doctor. 

"Certainly,  sir!  You  must  place  these 
facts  before  the  authorities;  for,  you  see, 
I  am  at  the  diggings  again,  and  must  rely 
upon  you  to  help  me.  There  is  lots  for  me 
to  do  down  in  the  mines,  sir, — but  about 
that  later."  Luke  was  even  more  serious  now. 

Dr.  Acton  bent  forward  in  an  eager,  ques 
tioning  attitude:  "What  have  you  learned 
about  the — assault,  Mr.  Darrell?"  His  at 
tention  did  not  seem  to  be  attracted  by  pos- 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        193 

sible  important  news  from  the  scenes  of  his 
friend's  daily  labors. 

The  miner  arose  from  his  chair  and  open 
ing  a  small  trunk,  took  out  a  few  articles, 
placing  them  before  the  physician.  The 
latter  regarded  these  articles — the  tell-tale 
cap,  a  miner's  heavy  hobnailed  shoe,  and 
a  dingy  pocket  handkerchief, — with  great 
curiosity. 

"A  pretty  good  array,  I  should  say,"  ob 
served  the  detective,  noting  the  look  of 
puzzled  interest  on  the  other's  face. 

"Yes,  I  should  say  so  too,  my  friend, 
if — if  they  point  in  the  same  direction.  What 
of  these,  Luke?"  pointing  to  the  articles. 

"Well,  this  you  found,"  holding  up  the 
cap.  "This  I  stole;"  here  he  smiled.  "This 
shoe  Mark  Waring  got  by  a  forced  exchange." 
The  whole  seemed  so  like  an  enigma  to  Dr. 
Acton,  that  he  turned  a  questioning  glance 
from  son  to  mother. 

"Seeing  you  are  not  good  at  solving  the 
Sphinx,  I  will  explain,"  ventured  Luke. 

"Go  on,  Mr.  Darrell,  I  certainly  cannot 
guess  your  riddles,  sir."  He  waited  for 
the  solution. 

"When  you  told  what  had  happened  and 


194        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

where  you  had  found  this,"  he  pointed  to 
the  cap,  "I  went  directly  to  the  scene,  and, 
looking  carefully  about  the  doorway,  I  dis 
covered  footprints,  such  as  a  heavy  shoe 
like  this  would  make  in  the  fresh  snow — these 
I  have  covered,  by  the  way,  and  they  may 
still  be  there.  Then  I  met  Mark  Waring, 
and  I  showed  him  the  footprints  leading 
toward  the  Diamond's  works.  I  got  all 
the  details  I  could  from  Clarissa," — here 
Dr.  Acton  winced  again; — "and  then  I  struck 
out  for  the  Black  Diamond  —  to  that  quarter 
where  the  foreigners  are  housed.  Here  I 
got  only  the  lay  of  the  land.  Then  I  called 
on  Supt.  Corliss  who  gave  me  the  information 
again,  that  the  Italians  would  not  return 
to  the  Mother  Lode — you  know,  Mr.  Sumner 
told  us.  But  I  also  found  that  their  leader 
went  into  the  pit  that  morning  without  a 
cap,  only  a  bandana  tied  over  his  head — that 
is  it,"  holding  up  that  object  for  inspection. 

"How  did  you  get  it,  Luke?" 

"Well,  I  waited — you  must  wait,  too, 
d'ye  see?"  with  a  sort  of  tantalizing  manner, 
so  unlike  him  that  Dr.  Acton  laughed. 

'Luke,  you  are  becoming  as  full  of  enig 
mas  as  a  genuine  detective,"  said  Mrs.  Darrell, 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        195 

as  she  thought  she  observed  just  a  little 
vexation  in  the  physician's  laugh.  "Come, 
tell  the  Doctor,  Luke." 

Thus  gently  admonished  the  man  con 
tinued:  "I  went  to  see  Mark  Waring  again, 
knowing  that  he  was  familiar  with  everything 
about  the  Black  Diamond  settlement,  and 
was  on  good  terms  with  all  the  men;  also 
thinking,  that  his  injuries  would  get  him 
in  where  I  should  fail.  Well,  we  arranged 
that  Mark  was  to  take  an  old  shoe,  one  for 
the  right  foot — you  see  this  is  a  right-hand 
shoe,  and  has  a  peculiar  patch  on  the  sole — 
and  by  hook  or  crook  manage  to  exchange 
it  (as  he  did  manage)  for  this  one.  The 
brave  fellow  went  to  the  Italian  quarters, 
sized  up  his  man  and  where  he  slept,  and 
actually  succeeded  after  the  fellow  had  gone 
to  bed,"  and  the  wary  man  enjoyed  the  look 
of  astonishment  on  Dr.  Acton's  face. 

"Now  you  have  been  patient,  I  will  re 
veal  the  mystery  of  the  handkerchief."  He 
moved  forward,  betraying  his  deep  interest 
in  the  narrative.  "I  returned  to  the  shaft 
about  the  hour  of  six  and  talked  with  the 
guard  at  the  cage  entrance.  I  asked  him 
if  he  had  heard  of  the  troubles  at  the  Mother 


196        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

Lode — he  had — I  asked  him  if  the  Diamond 
directors  were  going  to  reduce  wages — he 
hoped  not,  but  expected  it  would  come  sooner 
or  later.  Well,  pretty  soon  a  cage-load 
came  out  of  the  shaft;  we  stepped  back  on 
opposite  sides  of  the  extrance;  I  was  witch 
ing  for  the  man  with  a  bandana  on;  he  was 
not  there;  and  so  a  second,  and  then  a  third; 
my  man  with  the  strange  head-dress  was 
in  that  load;  I  could  see  his  face  and  knew 
the  man,  for  I  have  seen  him  in  our  mines; 
he  is  a  strong-limbed.  Italian  by  the  name 
of  Stefano  Giochio. — Write  that  down,  Doctor; 
he  is  our  man!"  The  miner  stopped  here, 
while  Dr.  Acton  pencilled  the  name  in  his 
pocket-book,  spelling  it  as  he  wrote. 

"All  right,  Luke;  go  on;  how  did  you  get 
the  handkerchief?"  The  professional  man's 
curiosity  was  so  aroused  that  the  importance 
of  Luke's  revelation  had  not  so  great  con 
cern  as  the  gratification  of  that  feeling. 

"Well,  I  followed  him, — shadowed  him, 
is  what  the  detective  would  say — I  followed 
him  with  much  difficulty,  although  the  light 
of  the  moon  made  it  easier  to  keep  the  ban 
dana  in  view.  He  went  straight  to  his  quar 
ters,  and  hanging  the  head-dress  on  a  nail,  took 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        197 

up  a  wash-basin,  and  entered  the  quarters.  I 
'lifted'  the  cloth  in  true  fashion,  and  here  it  is," 
and  Luke  turned  it  to  view.  "Do  they  point 
in  the  right  direction,  Doctor?"  he  asked. 

"Most  plainly!  You  have  made  out  a 
capital  case.  Now  what  is  to  be  done  ?" 

It  was  determined  that  Dr.  Acton  should 
take  charge  of  the  things  and  swear  to  a 
warrant  for  the  arrest  of  Stefano  Giochio 
and  John  Doe. 

Presently  the  conversation  turned  to  the 
affairs  of  the  Mother  Lode,  and  matters 
of  much  moment  were  brought  to  the  at 
tention  of  his  guest  by  the  gifted  miner. 

Luke  Darrell  related  briefly  some  of  the 
occurrences  of  the  past  two  days  in  the  mines, 
and  it  will  be  necessary,  for  the  purposes 
of  this  story,  to  give  only  in  substance  some 
of  these  facts. 

He  found  that  his  return  to  his  work  was 
pleasing  to  the  men  in  general;  only  his 
old  foes,  Jack  Farnam  and  Worry  Watson, 
evincing  a  strong  dislike,  and  a  disposition 
to  put  such  little  obstacles  in  his  way  as 
might  tend  to  annoy  him  and  also  show 
their  dislike. 

That  which  troubled    him    most    was    the 


198        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

promiscuous  use  of  the  open  lamps.  He 
had  remonstrated  with  Pit  Boss  Dale,  but 
had  been  told  that  he  had  best  mind  his  own 
business;  that  if  he  did  not  choose  to  carry 
the  open  lights  which  the  Company  per 
mitted — Dale  informed  him, — he  might  take 
the  Davy,  and  it  must  be  locked  according 
to  law.  Later  he  put  the  matter  to  Fire 
Inspector  Walsh,  who  also  told  him  that 
it  was  by  wish  of  the  Company,  and  that 
the  open  lights  could  be  used  on  all  work 
except  in  the  new  pit, — just  opened — the 
mines  had  all  been  inspected,  and  cleared 
of  any  'fire  damp',  but  he  would  be  care 
ful  that  no  one  went  into  the  new  pit  with 
an  open  lamp. 

"Now,  Doctor,  do  you  think  this  right? 
We  are  endangering  hundreds  of  lives  by 
allowing  this  hazardous  practice;  and  I 
am  surprised  that  Supt.  Sumner  permits  it! 
Do  you  think,  sir,  that  he  knows  of  this 
breach  of  the  law?  Mr.  Sumner  is  a  brave  and 
humane  man.  I  fully  believe  that  if  such 
an  order  were  to  come  from  the  Company, 
he  would  find  a  way  to  veto  it."  The  warmth 
of  the  speaker  was  apparent  in  voice  and 
manner;  he  was  walking  earnestly  to  and  fro. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        199 

"He  shall  know  about  this  at  the  earliest 
moment,"  reassured  the  doctor.  After  some 
further  conversation  the  visitor  withdrew. 

Out  into  a  night  of  blinding  snow  and 
baffling  wind  this  earnest  man  of  duty  passed. 
How  he  shuddered  when  he  looked  over 
toward  the  little  cluster  of  poor  cottages 
and  meaner  huts,  where  the  wretched  toilers 
of  Carbon  Vale  lay  sheltered  from  the  cut 
ting,  merciless  blasts  that  rendered  his  path 
so  difficult.  He  did  not  "thank  God"  that 
he  was  not  as  "these  poor,"  but  rather  thought, 
how  can  I  bring  gladness  and  comfort  to 
these  toilworn  and  suffering  people. 

His  walk  carried  him  past  the  home  of 
Clarissa;  it  was  a  little  out  of  his  way,  to 
be  sure,  but  he  would  go  that  way;  he  knew 
not  why,  but  he  went.  His  steps  slowed 
as  he  approached,  and  again  he  shuddered 
as  he  looked  upon  the  dark,  low  hut,  now 
veiled  behind  the  fast  driving  snow.  He 
would  go  to  the  door  and  knock;  it  was  not 
yet  late.  What  excuse  could  he  offer?  nay, 
what  purpose  could  he  possibly  have?  Ah, 
well,  as  for  that,  he  almost  smiled  at  the 
interpretation  of  his  purpose,  but  he  was 
too  intensely  pained  by  his  accompanying/ 


200        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

reflections  to  smile;  nay,  he  was  too  serious 
with  his  own  part  in  his  feelings.  He  would 
only  meet  the  master  of  the  house,  unless 
he  could  frame  some  excuse  to  see  his  patient; 
but  he  had  called  professionally  that  morn 
ing — he  always  liked  to  call  there  of  morn 
ings,  for  somehow  it  sent  sunshine  upon 
his  path  all  the  day  long.  Yes,  he  would 
go;  if  the  girl's  father  were  there,  he  wanted 
to  learn  what  he  could  do  for  his  defence. 
This  met  with  his  approval.  But  suppose 
he  were  not  at  home, — and  he  knew  his  ap 
petite  and  habits  well  enough  to  doubt  his 
being  there, — "Why,  I  can  ask  for  him  and 
then  wait."  He  advanced  to  the  door  and 
knocked.  No  answer  greeted  him, — he  knock 
ed  again  and  called,  "Is  Mr.  Watson  at 
home?" 

"Oh!  Dr.  Acton,  come  in!  Is  that  you? 
I  so  much  feared  that  perhaps  those  rough 
men  had  come  again."  The  voice  of  the 
girl  was  tremulous  yet  joyful. 

"Miss  Watson,  you  will  pardon  me,  but 
I  wish  to  see  your  father,"  said  he — a  part 
of  the  truth  thus  serving  for  all  of  it. 

"Oh,  my  poor  father!  But,  Doctor,  will 
you  not  light  the  candle  that  stands  upon 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        201 

the  table?"  He  produced  a  match  and  lighted 
the  candle. 

"You  see  I  have  not  retired,  and,  having 
a  wish  to  wait  up  for  father,  am  so  glad 
of  your  company.  Will  you  kindly  put 
more  coals  on  the  fire.  This  is  a  terrible 
night!  How  my  heart  aches  for  the  poor  people 
about  us."  She  shuddered  as  the  wind 
howled  without  and  a  gust  brought  sparks 
down  the  chimney. 

"Yes — a  wretched  night,  Miss  Watson. 
May  I  ask  how  your  injuries  are  to-night? 
You  see  I  may  as  well  be  professional." 
He  was  satisfied  to  be  anything — professional, 
or  friendly,  or  simply  curious, — if  he  might 
only  sit  by  her  and  listen  to  her  sweet  voice. 

Ah!  Herbert  Acton!  You,  perhaps,  ac 
cused  yourself  of  unnatural  feeling  in  thus 
intriguing  for  these  fleeting  moments  of 
new  found  happiness.  But  it  is  human  nature 
after  all. 

"Your  father  will  return  soon  I  suppose?" 
with  interrogative  inflection.  He  was  about 
to  say  "hope,"  but  he  despised  a  falsehood 
and  would  not  utter  it. 

"My  poor  father;  he  does  not  get  in  early 
these  nights;  but  I  hope — expect  he  may 


202        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

return  at  any  time  now.  You  will  wait,  Doc 
tor?  Did  you  not  say  you  wished  to  see  him} 
She  looked  at  his  absent  manner. 

"Yes,"  he  replied  mechanically. 

"You  remember,  Doctor  Acton,  the  night 
you  brought  me  home  from — from  the — ," 
she  began. 

"Yes,  Clarissa,  I  remember;  do  not  speak 
of  that  terrible  night,"  he  quickly  reinter- 
rupted. 

"Not  about  the  very  unfortunate  calamity 
that  befell  me, — if  that  pains  you,  sir;  for 
I  could  not  bear  to  cause  you  one  thought 
that  was  painful  or  unpleasant."  She  looked 
compassion  toward  him;  oh,  happy  moment 
for  both. 

"Nay,  go  on  my  dear — Miss  Watson," 
and  he  righted  himself  as  a  boat  that  might 
have  been  over-borne  by  the  storm — of 
passion  in  his  case. 

"What  I  was  going  to  tell  you  is  that  on 
the  night  I  recalled,  I  overheard  something 
I  wish  you  to  know,"  explained  the  young 
woman. 

"Well,  my  friend,  and  what  is  it?  Speak 
freely,  please;  if  there  is  anything  unpleasant 
to  tell,  do  not  fear  to  offend  me,  for  that, 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        203 

Clarissa,  you  cannot  do."  He  spoke  with 
much  decision. 

Her  eyes  fell  upon  her  hands  clasped  in 
her  lap  before  her;  she  was  moved  by  his 
voice;  it  sounded  so  like  that  other  time, 
when  for  a  painful,  but  joyous  moment 
her  heart  had  been  filled  with  such  hope 
and  gladness. 

He  looked  toward  her  as  she  sat  thus  with 
down-cast  eyes  and  happy,  unconscious  smile; 
the  strong  man's  heart  was  deeply  moved. 
He  hesitated  between  the  explanation  that 
it  was  the  recollection  of  her  mission  or  her 
so  sad  home  coming. 

"No,  you  will  not  think  that  I  intend  to 
offend  you — and  besides,  it  does  not  all 
concern  you.  It  is  what  I  overheard  father 
and  the  other  two  talking  about,"  and  she 
looked  up  again,  straight  into  his  eyes,  as 
she  seemed  to  recall  herself  to  the  perform 
ance  of  a  sacred  duty. 

"Well,  my  dear  Miss  Watson," — He  liked 
to  put  words  of  tenderness  now  into  his  ad 
dresses,  and  this  form  was  as  near  to  the  real 
phrase  as  he  dared  to  come. — "You  may  tell 
me  anything  you  wish,  and,  I  assure  you, 
no  question  of  what  you  say — no  thought  of 


204        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

impugning  your  motives  can  cross  my  mind; 
you  are  too  pure,  too  true,  too  good  to  have 
either  an  unholy  thought  or  unjust  purpose." 
Herbert  Acton  was  speaking  the  inmost 
conviction  of  his  heart,  and  Clarissa  Watson 
knew  it. 

She  trembled  slightly,  not  so  much  at 
his  earnestness  and  the  nature  of  his  declar 
ation,  nor  at  the  consequences  such  feel 
ings  might  have  for  her  own  happiness;  but 
she  trembled  in  the  fear  that  he  might  re 
open  declarations  of  a  plainer,  but  not  less 
grateful  kind, — and  for  this  she  was  not 
yet  prepared. 

"Doctor,  I  heard  those  men  say  they  would 
harm  you — that  they  would  kill  you,  Dr. 
Acton, — oh,  why  must  my  life  be  filled  with 
such  dread  and  shame!" — and — she  covered 
up  her  face  to  shut  out  the  horrible  sight — 
"that  they  would  blow  up  the  mines,"  She 
did  not  see  the  young  man  move  toward  her. 

He  tenderly  took  her  hand  in  his  and  look 
ing  down  into  her  troubled  face,  exclaimed 
in  low,  passionate  voice: 

"You  are  my  guardian  angel,  Clarissa! 
God  bless  you,  dear."  But  before  another 
word  could  be  exchanged  the  rude,  unsteady 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        205 

step  of  Worry  was  heard,  and  the  door  opened, 
revealing  his  form  covered  with  snow. 

He  muttered  incoherently,  "Rissy,  gurl, 
why  do  you  wait  up  so  late?  Come,  child, 
to  bed,  to  bed." 

"Father,  I  have  been  waiting  for  you; 
and  here  is  Dr.  Acton,  who  wishes  to  speak 
with  you,"  replied  the  trembling  girl. 

"Oh,  ho,  Doc-ter!  An'  what  can  you 
be  wantin'  with  such  as  old  Worry  Watson, 
man?"  getting  a  better  command  of  him 
self  when  he  learned  of  the  presence  of  the 
young  man. 

"Well,  Mr.  Watson,  I  wanted  to  speak 
with  you  about — about  your — your  case, 
sir;  but  it  is  late — pretty  late  now;  I  can 
come  again,  if  you  prefer,"  replied  the  doctor. 

"Perhaps  another  time  would  do  as  well," 
said  the  man.  "I  am  late  in  tonight,  and 
I  am  very  tired — and  it's  a  pretty  bad  night, 
sir."  expostulating,  for  in  fact  he  had  no 
relish  for  such 'an  interview. 

"Any  time  you  may  say,  Mr.  Watson. 
Suppose  you  come  to  my  office,  any  evening 
after  supper."  The  thought  occurred  to  Dr. 
Acton  that  thus  he  could  possibly  save  the 
father  from  one  night  of  debauch  and  also 


206        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

keep  the  disagreeable  discussion  of  the  case 
from  the  daughter's  ears;  he  knew  both  would 
be  a  relief  to  her. 

"All — right,  Doc — tor,  I'll  come  to  the 
office — some  evening,"  expressing  by  his  hes 
itancy  the  great  indefiniteness  of  the  time. 

"Then  I  must  say, good-night,  Mr.  Watson;" 
he  extended  his  hand.  "Good-night,  Miss — 
Watson."  He  despised  to  connect  the  name 
the  father  had  bestowed,  with  her  he  so 
dearly  loved,  but  he  pressed  her  hand  gent 
ly  for  an  instant  and  was  gone. 

Out  into  the  night  again  with  the  wind 
blowing  a  gale  from  the  east,  and  the  wet, 
clinging  snow  beating  in  his  face.  But  some 
how  he  did  not  notice  it  now;  his  heart  had 
been  warmed  at  the  glowing  fire  of  his  strange, 
new  affection. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

SPIKING  THE  ENEMY'S  GUNS 

"Clasp,  Angel  of  the  backward  look 
"And  folded  wings  of  ashen  gray 
"And  voice  of  echoes  far  away, 

"The  brazen  covers  of  thy  book;" 

— Whittier's  Snow   Bound. 

Affairs  at  Carbon  Vale  were  now  in  a  seem 
ingly  quiet  state.  Except  for  the  occasional 
disgruntled  expression  of  muttered  hatred 
toward  the  owners  of  the  Mother  Lode, 
in  particular,  and  the  the  heated  arraign 
ment  of  centralized  capital,  in  general,  a 
casual  observer  would  say  that  the  late 
feeling  of  opposition  from  the  miners  had 
given  place  to  one  of  contentment. 

These  workingmen  might  be  seen  plod 
ding  their  weary,  homeward  way,  or  going 
in  the  gray  dawn  and  gathering  dusk  to 
their  places  of  toil.  The  slow,  measured 
strokes  of  the  pumps  and  the  whir  of  machinery, 
the  rumble  of  heavily  laden  cars,  and  the 
207 


208        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

shouts  of  the  laborers  made  the  air  vocal 
with  the  pleasant  yet  melancholy  hum 
of  industry.  Everywhere  upon  the  scene 
the  eye  was  gratified  with  the  cheering  sight 
of  thrift  and  the  heart  raised  with  the  hope 
that  all  was  again  well  in  the  little  Penn 
sylvania  settlement. 

To  the  close  observer  matters  presented 
a  different  aspect.  The  tall  smoking  chim 
neys  of  the  Company's  furnaces  told  of  fires 
within — and  so,  too,  the  weary,  anxious 
faces  of  its  thousand  toilers  betrayed  the 
fire  of  hatred  fed  by  the  fuel  of  discontent, 
which  might  at  any  moment  supply  a  mighty 
engine  of  organized  resistance. 

There  were  those  who  stood  at  hand  with 
fingers  upon  the  pulse  or  with  heads  bent 
to  catch  the  quick  breath  and  fiery  heart 
throbs  of  social  and  industrial  distemper. 
With  the  adjusted  regularity  of  a  working- 
man's  habits,  one  sentinel  went  daily  to  his 
wonted  haunts  of  labor  in  the  pits;  another 
took  up  the  cable  of  oft  recurring  rounds  of 
humane,  professional  duty  among  those  suf- 
ferining  from  sickness  or  injury;  a  third, 
with  silent  business  mien,  found  the  line  of 
his  observation  in  the  steady,  clock-like 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        209* 

train  of  a  great  corporation's  affairs.  Each 
in  his  prescribed  field  learned  lessons  from 
the  great  book  of  human  nature,  or  took 
bearings  from  that  part  of  the  industrial 
sea  to  which  his  peculiar  labors  called  him. 

Twice  since  that  much  dreaded  December 
first,  had  pay-day  come  for  the  Carbon  Vale 
crews,  and  the  third  of  these  recurrences, 
much  feared  on  the  one  hand  and  equally 
desired  on  the  other,  was  approaching. 

Incident  to  the  usual  course  of  events  was 
the  arrest  and  hearing  in  the  case  of  murderous 
assault  upon  the  life  and  person  of  Clarissa 
Watson.  The  Italian,  Stefano  Giochio,  lay 
languishing  in  the  jail  which  had  been  lately 
the  scene  of  another  incarceration,  but  com- 
panionless  and  unvisited  by  anyone  tenderly 
concerned  in  this  prisoner's  welfare. 

Likewise  the  abuse  of  the  unlawful  prac 
tise  in  the  use  of  unprotected  lights  in  the 
mines  had  been  corrected  by  a  peremptory 
order  from  the  Superintendent  of  the  works. 
Among  the  men  and  also  in  the  case  of  Pit 
Boss  Dale  the  explanation  of  the  immediate 
cause  of  such  an  order,  was  that  the  miner, 
Darrell,  had  made  complaint  to  the  man 
agement.  In  this  we  know  too  that  they 


210        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

were  correct,  but  the  motive  charged  by 
his  silent  accusers  was  so  different  from  the 
truth  that  it  weighed  with  a  gravum  of  prej 
udice  against  the  sincere  fellow. 

Luke  knew  that  the  promiscuous  use 
of  these  menaces  to  the  common  security 
of  life  was  also  a  tremendous  hazard  of  the 
Company's  property,  likewise  it  was  in  direct 
violation  of  the  statutes  of  the  state,  and 
he  felt,  too,  that  the  clean,  humane  rep 
utation  of  Ralph  Sumner,  his  good  friend 
and  the  Corporation's  trusted  representa 
tive,  was  involved, — and  much  to  the  man 
ager's  discredit,  if  this  unlawful  practice 
were  permitted  to  continue.  We  know,  too, 
how  the  detection  of  this  breach  of  duty 
was  reported  and  its  correction  secured. 

The  publication  of  the  Superintendent's 
order  caused  much  feeling  of  resentment 
and  was  the  occasion  for  a  fresh  outburst 
of  indignation  from  those  most  ready  to 
seek  new  cause  of  complaint. 

"I  tell  ye  it's  an  oppression,  sir,"  observed 
Dale  to  Inspector  Walsh  to  whom  fell  the 
unpleasant  duty  of  publishing  the  orders. 

"I'm  thinking  its  a  little  over-precaution 
ary,  myself,  Dale,"  returned  Walsh.  "You 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        211 

heard  what  Pres.  Crosby  said  in  our  presence; 
yes,  and  Sumner  heard  it  too." 

"Yes,  and  Sumner  had  his  orders  from 
the  general  office  to  allow  the  lamps  to  the 
men,  for  Mr.  Crosby  told  me — told  me, 
mind  ye — that  Sumner  was  to  issue  the  per 
mit  at  once.  I  acted  under  Crosby's  orders, 
remember;  not  under  Sumner's.  And  I'll 
be  damned  if  I  don't  believe  I'll  do  it  still," 
angrily  exclaimed  the  boss. 

"No,  no,  Dale,  don't  do  that.  I  know 
how  you  feel,  and,  by  God,  I  can't  blame 
ye.  If  it  was  me,  I  am  thinking  I'd  cuss 
that  Sumner  out  of  his  job.  But  then, 
ye  know,  I'm  responsible  to  the  state  as 
well  as  to  the  Superintendent  to  see  that  this 
damned  order" — shaking  the  written  notice 
in  the  air —  "is  obeyed,  and  I  could  not  per 
mit  you  to  disregard  it,  Dale."  "Of  course, 
'Sumner  is  'stainin'  at  a  gnat';  there  is 
ab-so-lute-ly  no  danger."  The  inspector  was 
wavering  between  the  duty  imposed  by  his 
office  and  the  inclination  to  use  his  own 
judgment  in  the  matter. 

"You'll  see  what  a  hell  of  a  time  we'll 
have  with  the  men.  And  don't  you  for 
get  what  I  say.  New  hands  and  old  hands, 


212        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

both,  will  have  an  excuse  to  kick  and  growl 
at  the  Company — and  at  me  an'  you,  too. 
We'll  get  the  most  of  the  blame,  Walsh." 
Dale  moved  away  to  see  that  the  old  Davies 
were  in  readiness,  for  they  had  been  cast 
aside  most  unceremoniously  during  the  past 
two  or  three  days.  He  did  not  take  the 
precaution,  however,  of  removing  the  more 
preferable  lamps  to  a  place  of  safety,  out 
of  the  reach  of  the  men;  somehow  he  wished 
that  the  miners  would  disregard  the  order, 
and  in  a  rebellious  spirit,  left  this  temp 
tation  in  their  way. 

Many  were  the  muttered  imprecations  on 
the  Superintendent,  and  disapprovals  of  the 
new  order.  As  the  pit  boss  had  declared, 
new  and  old  hands  alike  took  up  the  cry  of 
"oppression";  and,  as  they  surlily  fitted 
on  the  detested  Davy  they  exchanged  words 
of  angry  dislike. 

"You  look  like  you'se  goin'  huntin',  Worry," 
was  Jack  Farnam's  observation  as  he  watched 
his  boon  companion  equipped  with  a  Davy 
tightly  locked. 

"Pity  I'm  not  goin'  shootin'  for  some  bigger 
game,  Jack.  I'm  thinkin'  that  a  good  fat 
director  or  two  of  the  Mother  Lode  would 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        213 

make  a  better  and  fuller  bag."  Watson 
swaggered  off,  with  his  pick  shouldered  like 
a  sportsman's  fowling  piece. 

"I  only  wish  there  was  'damp'  enough 
in  the  hole  to  be  dangerous,  Worry,  we  would 
not  be  long  in  blowin'  up  the  shebang, — mines, 
mules,  machinery  and  all  would  go  to  hell 
together.  Yes,  and  directors  too,  I  imagine; 
fer  a  good  blowing  up  would  hit  them  pal- 
asheal  princes  in  Philedelfy  'bout  as  hard  as 
anybody,"  and  he  laughed  boisterously  at 
his  rude  conceit. 

"If  it's  gas  ye  want,  I  know  where  there's  a 
plenty  of  it.  D'ye  know,  Jack,  that  I'm 
of  the  o-pinyun,  that  the  new  pit's  full  of 
it."  He  spoke  confidentially  now.  "Or  why 
should  Walsh  have  kept  the  naked  lights 
away?" 

"D'ye  think  so,  Worry?  Now  if  Burly 
was  only  here! — Poor  Burly,  I  guess  it's  yer 
last  job  ye've  done  fer  us;  hey,  Worry?" 
Neither  man  seemed,  however,  to  enjoy  the 
recollections  that  Jack's  words  suggested. 

"I  shouldn't  mind  firin'  the  stuff  myself, 
man,"  returned  Watson  with  great  brag 
gadocio  in  his  manner.  But  here  their 
paths  separated,  as  their  work  took  them  to 


214        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

different  rooms,  and  the  conversation  closed. 

Luke  Darrell  had  been  a  willing  listener 
to  these  things,  as  he  had  followed  at  a  close, 
but  safe  distance  in  the  friendly  gloom  of 
the  place.  The  discovery'  of  what  to  him 
seemed  plain  was  a  plot  of  Worry  and  Jack 
to  wreck  the  Company's  works  caused  a 
shudder  of  horror  to  pass  through  his  strong 
frame.  It  was  with  some  difficulty,  too, 
that  he  suppressed  a  cry  which  rose  to  his 
lips  when  the  full  nature  of  their  confidence 
dawned  upon  him. 

Upon  a  more  sober  thought,  however, 
he  was  sufficiently  convinced  that  such  a 
catastrophe  could  not  be  immediately  brought 
about,  as  the  conspirators  were  working  in 
his  own  neighborhood,  and  this  was  in 
a  line  opposite  to  the  new  pit,  several  rods 
distant  from  the  pit's  "eye." 

But  Luke's  mind  was  not  at  rest,  and  he 
bent  over  his  task  that  day,  deep  in  thought 
and  with  a  determined  purpose.  So  much 
was  he  absorbed  in  these  thoughts  and  he 
worked  with  such  unwonted  diligence,  that 
the  car-tally  showed  he  had  exceeded  his 
usually  large  'stint'.  The  pit  boss  noted 
this  and  alluded  to  it  at  the  close  of  the  day 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        215 

when  the  men  gathered  at  the  bottom  of 
the  shaft  preparatory  to  going  out  of  the 
mine. 

"That  ledge  seemed  to  yield  unusually 
easy,  sir"  explained  the  miner  to  Dale's 
implied  question. 

"Tryin'  to  make  up  for  the  time  ye  lost 
while  workin'  fer  the  devilish  company."  The 
speaker  was  a  known  hater  of  anything, 
or  anybody  of  merit;  he  likewise  flouted 
his  animosity  toward  his  "Satanic  Majesty," 
The  Mother  Lode  Company. 

But  Luke  took  no  notice  of  the  fellow's  savage 
denunciation  of  himself,  and  the  fling  at  the 
corporation;  he  was  used  to  these  things 
and  really  did  not  mind  them.  Thoughtfully 
he  turned  his  steps  homeward,  resolved  on 
a  course  that  would  tend  to  avert  calamity 
of  a  heinous  character  to  aril  concerned. 

Wearied  beyond  his  usual  degree  he  dropped 
into  a  short  nap  by  the  warm  home  fire  after 
supper;  and  when  his  mother  noticed  his  tired 
appearance  she  mused  with  herself:  "My 
boy  is  unusually  sleepy  tonight." 

"Luke,"  she  said  a  few  minutes  later, 
"don't  you  think  you'd  better  go  to  bed, 
now;  you  seem  so  worn  out,  my  soft." 


216        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"Aye,  mother!  he  exclaimed  starting  from 
his  chair.  "Did  you  hear  that  roar  and 
the  terrible  cries?"  passing  his  hand  over  his 
troubled  brow. 

"No  Luke!"  briefly  replied  the  surprised 
mother" 

"Oh,  I  was  just  dreaming,  mother  dear." 
He  laughed,  but  the  troubled  look  still  clouded 
his  handsome  face. 

"Sit  down  my  boy!  What  are  you  going 
to  do,  Luke?"  enquired  Mrs.  Darrell;  for 
the  young  man  was  moving  about,  seeking 
coat  and  hat. 

"I'm  going  over  to  Watson's,  mother," 
laconically  and  in  absentminded  manner. 

"But  ain't  you  too  tired,  Luke?  I  know 
it's  a  long  while  since  you  have  been  over 
to  see  Clarissa,  and  you  ought  to  go.  It's 
hardly  neighborly,  I  know;  but  this  is  a 
cold,  unpleasant  night  and  you  are  so  tired." 

"Well,  mother,  I'm  not  so  tired,  now; 
I've  had  a  little  nap;  I'll  not  be  gone  long," 
and  he  stooped  to  kiss  the  withered  cheek, 
and  bestow  a  parting  smile. 

"God  bless  you,  my  boy" — reverently. 
"My  love  to  the  dear  girl,  Luke."  He  took 
his  hat  and  was  gone. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        217 

-  • 

Whistling  he  went;  but  he  was  serious 
and  thoughtful.  He  whistled  because  rec 
ollections  of  many  a  joyous  walk  to  the 
home  of  Clarissa,  in  boyhood  days,  came 
up  in  his  thoughts; — he  was  serious  because 
of  the  burden  that  lay  at  his  heart  and  mas 
tered  his  feelings. 

It  was  but  a  short  walk,  and  the  still, 
crisp  air  gave  energy  to  his  wonted  quick 
step.  Shortly  after,  he  knocked  at  the  door 
and  was  admitted  by  Miss  Watson  herself. 

"Why, — Mr.  Darrell,  What  a  pleasure! 
Come  in,  sir.  I  presume  you  want  to  see 
my  father." 

"Not — just  at  present; — later,  perhaps." 
He  entered  the  house  mechanically. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
EVIDENCE  FOR  THE  DEFENSE 

"Freeze,  Freeze,  thou  bitter  sky, 
"Thou  dost  not  bite  so  nigh 
"As  benefits  forgot: 
"Though  thou  the  waters  warp, 
"Thy  sting  is  not  so  sharp 

"As  friend  remembered  not." 

— Shakespeare. 

"Stefano!" 

No  response  only  the  sounds  of  distant 
noises  disturbed  the  night. 

"Giochio — Stefano!"    again   called    a   voice. 

"Piu!  whata  you  want?"  The  voice  of  the 
Italian  came  from  the  inside  of  the  barred 
window;  for  with  apprehension  he  crouched 
closely  beside  the  wall,  fearful  of  some 
bodily  harm. 

"Say  Stefano,  come  nearer  to  the  window: 
I  want  to  whisper  to  ye."  encouraged  the 
speaker. 

"Howa  I  know  you  not  keel  me?     Whata 
I  want  fra  you?"  asked  Stefano. 
218 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        219 

"We  have  come  to  get  ye  out  o'  this,  man. 
Can't  ye  understand?"  explained  the  man 
outside. 

"Howa  I  un-derstan?  You  not  tella  me. 
Whirra  you  come  fram?"  This  time  his 
voice  sounded  closer  and  clearer. 

"We  come  from  yer  friends,  Giochio;  and 
are  here  to  tell  ye  how  to  get  out  o'  here; 
is  that  plain?" 

"I  know  not-a  thata  plaain;  ees  that  you — 
hum?  Howa  you  calla  ya  name,  ma  fren?" 
asked  he  wearily. 

"I'm  Jack — Jack  Farnam;  you  know  me 
Stefano.  And  here  is  Worry  Watson — ." 
The  speaker  might  have  added  some  further 
explanation,  but  with  a  startled  cry  the 
Italian  suddenly  disappeared  from  the  win 
dow. 

"Say,  Stefano,  come  here, — I'll  tell  ye 
how  to  get  out  o'  this  place."  Thus  reas 
sured  that  perhaps  a  way  of  escape  was  open 
to  him,  the  wary  foreigner  cautiously  ap 
proached  the  opening  a  second  time. 

"You  tella  me  how;  tella  me,  what  must 
I  do — then  you  go  away,  Jack — and  Worra 
go  too!"  His  voice  betrayed  the  fear  he  felt. 

"Well    listen    then.     Here    take    this    bar; 


220        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

there  now.  If  we'd  only  had  such  friends, 
Worry,  we  could  'ave  slept  in  our  beds,  man! — 
Now  Stefano,  go  to  the  door  and  pry  up 
the  stone  under  it."  Jack  mounted  as  high 
as  possible  and  placed  his  face  close  to  the 
grating.  "Here,  man,  is  a  bit  o'  candle  and 
a  match.  Strike  a  light  and  I  can  show  ye." 

The  Italian  lit  the  candle.  "Now  I  gotta 
eet;  whirra  must  I  deeg?" 

"There,  that  big  stone;  see?"  and  Jack 
directed  his  efforts  to  the  task  of  liberating 
himself. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  minutes  the  great 
stone  was  loosened,  and  by  much  prodding, 
an  opening  was  made  large  enough  for  the 
man,  Stefano,  to  get  his  huge  body  through. 

"Now,  Stefano,  before  ye  come  out  I  want 
to  talk  with  ye."  The  prisoner  grunted 
assent.  "Ye'll  have  to  come  into  the  mine 
tomorrow,  fer  the  deputies  will  be  lookin' 
fer  ye,  and  least  of  all  will  they  expect  to 
find  ye  there." 

"Howa  I  do  that?" 

"Oh,  we  can  work  it  all  right,  and  we  have 
clothes  fer  yer  too,"  Jack  talked  rapidly 
with  a  show  of  confidence  that  begot  con 
fidence  in  his  listener,  and  that  indicated  a 


well  devised  plan.  Stefano  grunted  his  ap 
proval. 

"Blow  out  that  light!  Now  give  the  taller 
to  me."  The  man  obeyed,  and  Jack  con 
tinued  the  unfolding  of  the  prisoner's  part 
in  the  plan  for  his  escape. 

"You've  got  to  stick  to  the  job,  once  yer 
get  out,  Stefano; — er  you'll  git  in  agin,  mighty 
quick."  The  plan  slowly  developed  and 
the  dark  scheme  that  lay  beneath  it — half 
revealed,  half  colored — did  not  appear 
to  the  untutored  foreigner,  but  he  under 
stood  enough  to  see  that  it  meant  a  chance 
for  liberty  and,  therefore,  met  his  approval. 

Giochio  was  now  hauled  through  the 
uncomfortably  small  opening,  and  the  men 
left  the  place  making  a  wide  detour  of  the 
village,  thus  to  escape  discovery. 

At  the  hut  of  a  fellow  Italian  who — 
for  the  fact  had  been  well  chosen — was 
down  with  the  grip,  they  left  Stefano. 
He  was  directed  to  appear  at  the  entrance 
of  the  Mother  Lode  on  the  following  morning, 
dressed  in  the  garments  of  the  invalid. 

While  these  things  were  in  progress  at 
the  town  jail,  Luke  Darrell  was  carefully 
reducing  to  form,  his  plans  for  the  saving 


222        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

of  what  he  apprehended  might  be  a  deep 
laid  scheme  for  great  harm  to  the  interests 
and  safety  of  human  life  and  property. 

"Miss  Watson,  may  I  inquire  how  your 
father's  health  is,  these  days,"  he  asked,  after 
the  usual  formal  observations  on  the  weather 
and  kindred  topics  had  been  exhausted. 

"Father  has  been  pretty  well,  sir,"  answered 
the  young  woman. 

"You  must  pardon  me,  if  I  seem  to  ask 
impertinent  questions,  Miss  Clarissa,  but 
I'll  explain  my  purpose  later."  He  looked 
furtively  at  her.  What  could  he  be  coming 
at!  The  girl  was  both  curious  and  alarmed 
now. 

"Does  he  maintain  his  purpose  of  stir 
ring  up  the  men,  Clarissa?"  This  question 
without  much  show  of  interest. 

"Really,  Mr.  Darrell,  I  know  so  little  of 
what  my  father's  views  or  purpose  is; — I 
have  hoped,  though,  that  his  recent  trouble," 
she  hesitated  and  colored  deeply — a  blush 
of  shame — "I  have  hoped,  that  he  would  give 
up  his  purpose  to  cause  a  strike."  Her  eyes 
dropped  to  the  floor. 

"Your  father?  is  he  away  much — of  nights, 
Miss  Watson?"  The  trend  of  this  she  could 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        223 

scarcely  conjecture,  and  it  pained  her  to 
answer;  for  he  so  seldom  spent  a  moment 
in  her  company  now. 

"Yes  Luke,  a  great  deal;  and  I  would  so 
much  like  to  have  him  home,  since  that 
fatal  night — and  since  I  was  hurt."  Her 
face  wore  a  far-away  eager  look  that  told 
of  heart  longings  and  with  but  small  hope 
of  their  realization. 

"And  he  never  makes  excuses  for  his  neglect 
— his  absence,  I  mean,  Clarissa?"  He  liked 
not  the  word  "neglect,"  so  corrected  him 
self.  "Your  pardon,  dear  Miss  Watson,  but 
I  am  not  asking  from  idle  curiosity,  you  know." 

"I  hope  our  long  acquaintance,  Luke 
will  be  proof  against  my  thinking  any 
thing  wrong  that  you  may  do.  Let  that 
reassure  you."  She  tried  to  look  cheer 
ful.  "Now  your  question;  Yes  father  is 
always  making  excuses,  but  I  sometimes 
feel  that  they  are  very  lame  ones."  Her 
head  dropped  upon  her  hand,  and  the  sweet 
face  was  hid  from  scrutiny. 

"Then  you  are  not  so  sure  of  his  doings, 
when  not  at  his  work  and  away  from  you?" 
The  question  was  a  harsh,  unfeeling  one  to 
put  to  the  loving,  sacrificing  daughter  of 


224        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

this  wretched  man.  Luke  would  have  spared 
her  too,  but  his  purpose  required  as  much 
of  such  information  as  she  could  give. 

A  sense  of  shame  kept  her  head  bowed, 
and  yet  she  answered  bravely — in  a  clear 
straight-forward  way. 

"I  doubt  his  words — very  much, — some 
times;  he  is  so  changed  of  late; — and  it  is  all 
due  to  drink;"  and  she  sobbed  a  moment, 
then  looked  up:  "Oh!  Mr.  Darrell,  pardon 
this  burst  of  feeling,  please!  She  looked 
up  through  her  tears,  straight  into  the  eyes 
of  the  strong,  noble  man  before  her. 

"Clarissa,  child!  Forgive  my  unfeeling  ques 
tions."  His  tenderness  touched  the  well- 
spring  of  her  feelings  anew,  and  she  wept 
a  moment  in  silence.  Rising  from  her  chair, 
she  went  over  to  the  friend  who  had  caused 
her  such  pain,  and  clasping  her  hands  before 
her — which  meant  both  resignation  and  re 
solve,  "You  shall  not  be  troubled  by  tears 
again,  my  good  friend,"  smiling  trustfully. 
"I  will  be  brave  for  your  sake,  and  for  the 
sake  of  the  good  you  hope  to  do." 

She  held  out  her  hand — thin  and  white 
from  the  recent,  severe  suffering. 

"Clarissa,"  he   cried,  taking   her   hand    in 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        225 

his  own  great  rough  one,  "I  am  tempted 
to  kiss  you,  my  dear,  and  tell  you  that  which 
has  long  been  at  my  heart,  but  I  cannot 
take  advantage  of  your  feelings  now."  She 
drew  away  from  him;  she  had  never  sus 
pected  this!  "No  not  now,  dear;  at  some 
time  when  you  are  strong, — and — when  a 
great  duty  is  not  weighing  upon  my  heart. 
Then  I  want  to  come  to  you  and  tell  you, 
how  I  love  you,  little  one — ."  "There!" 
and  he  did  print  a  kiss, — tenderly,  sincerely 
upon  the  hand  he  held. 

"Oh  Luke — Mr.  Darrell — you  must  not 
talk  so  to  me  now!  No  my  dear  friend,  never! 
I  am  all  unworthy  of  you."  She  looked 
up  smiling — a  sorrowful,  but  confiding  smile. 
"You  will  leave  this,  and  return  to  your 
questions?"  Somehow  she  felt  that  such  talk 
would  be  less  painful  to  her.  Oh,  if  he  only 
knew  that  Herbert  Acton — in  her  thoughts 
she  liked  to  call  him  Herbert  Acton. — But 
what  was  Herbert  Acton  to  her?  She  had 
never  given  him  any  promises — nay,  nor  hope. 
And  if  Luke  Darrell  sought  her  out  as  the 
choice  of  his  love,  did  that  signify  anything 
to  Doctor — no,  Herbert  Acton!  And  besides 
was  not  Luke  of  her  own  station  in  life?  Could 


226        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

she  not  be  happier  as  the  wife  of  the  noble 
miner?  Aye,  was  he  not  the  noblest  man 
she  knew — as  noble  as — as  Herbert.  She 
noticed  herself  trembling  violently. 

"There,  my  dear  girl!  I  have  startled  you, 
Clarissa.  Forgive  me;  let  me  return  to  my 
questions?"  comforted  the  miner,  his  gentle- 
manliness  and  strong  sense  of  duty — to 
himself,  to  her  and  to  the  cause  of  humanity, 
which  he  had  espoused,  ruling  his  actions 
with  a  strong,  masterful  power.  He  resumed 
the  seat  from  which  he  had  risen,  and  mo 
tioned  Clarissa  to  be  seated  also. 

"Do  you  think  your  father  spends  much 
time  with  Jack  Farnam,  Clarissa?" 

"Yes,  I  think  he  does, — mostly;  and  I 
know  Jack  is  not  good  company  for  anyone. 
Oh,  why  does  not  my  father  choose  for 
companions  such  men  as  you  or — or  Dr. 
Acton?" 

"I  think  Jack  uses  his  influence  over  him — 
and  not  for  his  good,  either,"  He  modestly 
paid  no  notice  to  the  compliment  her  words 
bestowed  on  himself; — but  why  Dr.  Acton? 
"Perhaps  we  can  prevent  Jack's  bad  influence." 
He  must  say  something  encouraging. 

Clarissa  interrupted   him;  he  had  scarcely 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        227 

time  to  say  so  much.  Eagerly  she  leaned 
forward  and,  looking  into  his  face  beseech 
ingly,  -exclaimed: 

"Oh!  Luke,  how?  tell  me  how  to  save 
my  poor,  wretched  father,  and  anything 
you  may  ask,  I  will  do,  even — even  to — yes, 
Luke,  even  to  giving  my  life  to  you."  She  did 
not  say  love — the  word  came  to  her  lips, 
but  she  could  not  utter  the  lie  that  would 
make.  She  trembled;  but  why?  Did  she 
have  any  right  to  utter  such  a  vow? 
Yes,  he  had  told  his  love  for  her;  but  had 
she  a  right  to  give  that  which  did  not  belong 
to  her;  but  would  Luke  barter  his  love 
for  her  life? 

Luke  was  sensibly  moved  by  this  show 
of  strong  filial  affection, — and  then  he  realized 
his  own  personal  gain  in  her  promised  self- 
sacrifice.  But  that  was  the  very  weakness 
of  her  promise;  and,  besides,  had  he  not 
just  now  disavowed  any  wish  to  take  ad 
vantage  of  her  weak  condition  and  severely 
wrought  feelings?  No,  he  could  accept  no 
sacrifice!  He  would  seek  a  more  suitable 
time  for  the  formal  declaration  of  his  love, 
and  await  an  answer,  clear,  calm,  and  truth 
ful  from  her  inmost  heart.  He  would  have 


228        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

no   sacrificial  love   under  any  circumstances. 

"I  know  that  you  will  be  glad  to  learn 
that  I  have  a  plan  for  such  a  fortunate  ar 
rangement;  but  I  must  tell  you  about  that 
another  time.  Can  you  trust  me,  Clarissa?" 
He  was  troubled  for  her  sake. 

"Trust  you!  oh,  Luke,  I  trust  you  in  every 
thing." 

"ThenI  will  say  that  I  will  see  Mr.  Sumner; 
he  will  help  me  to  bring  it  about.  Now, 
of  the  other  questions,  Clarissa;  and  I  know 
they  will  be  less  cruel." — He  waited  for 
her  permission  to  proceed. 

"Ask  me  anything,  Mr.  Darrell.  Anything," 
she  repeated  emphatically. 

"When  Mr.  Watson  went  from  home  this 
evening,  did  he  make  any  excuse?"  resumed  the 
questioner. 

•  "Yes;" — she  thought  a  moment — "he  said 
he  wanted  to  take  some  things  to  a  poor 
foreigner,  who  needed  them; — it  was  so  un 
like  my  father; — I  hope,  I  do  him  no  wrong — 
he  hates  or  dislikes  the  Italians  and  Hun 
garians  so." — Yes;  this  question  was  not 
so  trying  as  the  others  had  been. 

"Ah,  he  did!  What  things  did  he  take 
for  the  poor  man?"  He  said  "poor  man," 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        229 

for  he  wished  her  to  feel  that  he  put  some 
credence  in  Worry's  excuse. 

"Well,  let's  see."  Recalling  a  list.  "A 
pair  of  shoes — he  had  an  old  pair  that  were 
much  too  big  for  himself, — and  a  cap,  one 
of  a  strange  outlandish  cut — he  had  never 
worn  it  but  once  or  twice;  he  didn't  like  it. 
I  think  it  was  too  large,  and  too  out 
landish,  he  did  not  like  the  foreign  cut 
of  it;  and  then  an  old  pair  of  blue  trousers; — 
that's  all,"  and  the  girl  looked  up  inquisitively, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "And  how  can  these  matters 
interest  you?" 

"Will  he  meet  Jack  tonight?"  was  the 
short  question. 

"Yes,  I  am  pretty  sure  of  that,  for  these 
things  were  for  a  poor  man  that  Jack  knew, 
he  said;  so  it  is  pretty  plain  that  they  meet 
tonight." 

"Now  you  have  answered  all  my  questions." 
A  moment  of  thought,  it  was  such  a  relief, 
she  sighed. 

"Just  one  thing  more,  and  I  must  be  going." 
She  trembled  again  now,  for  she  feared  that 
her  friend,  assured  by  her  own  recent  prom 
ises,  might  reopen  a  scene  which  she  hoped 
was  closed, — closed  forever!  For  if  Luke 


230        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

Darrell  was  to  declare  his  love  now,  how 
could  she  answer  him?  She  had  often  thought 
that  this  worthy  man  and  true  friend  had 
a  very  tender  regard  for  herself,  and  she 
had  at  times  expected — and  even  perhaps 
hoped — that  he  would  tell  her  of  it — but 
that  was  past  now.  Still  she  knew  it  to  be 
as  she  had  suspected;  partly  hoped,  before 
Herbert  Acton  had  come  into  her  life.  But 
now  it  would  be  so  hard  to  hear  him;  and 
what  could  she  possibly  answer?  How  wildly 
her  heart  beat! 

"Will  you  question  your  father  tonight, 
and  learn  all  you  can."  She  sighed  the  sudden 
relief  this  gave.  "All  you  can;  take  any 
explanation,  any  excuses.  But  be  careful 
to  remember  all;  and  when  he  goes  to  the 
mines  tomorrow  morning,  meet  me  at  the 
crossing  yonder," — pointing — "and  tell  me 
about  everything;  we  can  walk  to  the  shaft 
together.  Can  you  do  this,  dear?"  He  lapsed 
into  such  tenderness  that  she  started.  "Have 
I  offended  you,  Clarissa?  do  I  ask  too  much? 
Oh,  how  inconsiderate  I  am!  I  am  for 
getting  that  you  have  been  very  ill."  He  took 
her  hands  in  his  own  big,  rough  ones. 

A  moment  she  stood,  dumb  and  trembling: 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        231 

"Oh,  no:  I  am  quite  well  again;  and  I  shall 
do  as  -you  ask  me.  But  what  strange  things 
to  do! — yet,  I  will  trust  you  as  always." 
The  look  of  entire  confidence  restored  his 
momentary  unbalance. 

"Then,  Clarissa  dear,  goodnight:  Brave, 
brave  girl,  remember  that  some  day,  I  have 
something  to  say — I  must  not  trouble  you  now. 
No,  it  would  not  be  right  at  this  time, — but 
some  day.  Goodnight!"  He  opened  the  door 
and  pressed  his  lips  to  her  hand — "Good 
night,  dear." 

"Good  night,  Luke!  and  God  bless  you." 
The  clear,  cheery  tones  of  Clarissa  Watson 
sounded  out  into  the  cold,  frosty  air.  And 
the  girl  disappeared  within. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir!" 

"Ah,  Doctor,  you  are  making  your  calls 
at  this  late  hour?"  Luke  rallied  him  in  a 
pleasant  manner. 

Herbert  Acton  had  been  an  unwilling 
listener  to  the  parting  words  of  his  friend 
and  his — dearest  friend.  He  must  explain. 
He  had  come  to  see  if  the  long  looked-for 
talk  with  Worry  Watson  could  not  be  se 
cured.  The  trial  was  set  for  December  26th, 
and  only  a  few  days  intervened.  He  had 


232         THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

come  late,  for  he  had  met  the  man  earlier 
in  the  evening,  and  knowing  his  habits 
could  not  expect  to  find  him  at  home  until 
a  late  hour.  He  did  not  add  that  it  was  still 
an  early  hour  for  Watson  to  return,  but  that 
he  could  improve  his  time  quite  agreeably. 
He  had  consoled  himself  with  the  thought. 

Clarissa,  hearing  the  call  of  Luke  making 
excuses  and  the  continued  friendly  inter 
change  of  words,  very  naturally  concluded 
that  it  was  her  father  whom  Luke  had  met. 
On  opening  the  door  she  was  very  much 
astonished  and  equally  disturbed  to  find 
that  Luke  Darrell,  her  lover,  was  talking 
to  no  other  than  Herbert  Acton — her — beloved. 
Were  they  ignorant  of  each  other's  feelings 
toward  her? 

Dr.  Acton  enquired  for  the  father  of  the 
young  woman  and  getting,  "No,  father  has 
not  yet  returned,"  bade  her  goodnight,  and 
hastened  to  overtake  the  miner,  with  whom 
he  wished  to  exchange  a  few  words. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

WITH  FEAR  AND  TREMBLING 

"Hark!    a    swift    step!    she    had    caught   its    tone 
"Through  the  dash  of  the  sea,  through  the  wild  wind's 

moan. — 
"Is  her  lord  returned  with  his  conquering  bands?" 

— Heman's    The    Lady   of   Provence. 

The  dread  scourge  of  influenza  that  pros 
trated  so  many  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
eastern  states  in  the  Winter  of  iSSg-'ox), 
swept  with  alarming  severity  through  the 
village  where  the  scenes  of  our  story  have 
been  mostly  laid.  Now  it  was  at  its  height, 
and  there  was  scarcely  a  house  in  the  town, 
but  had  its  victims. 

This  accounted  for  the  now  almost  daily 
arrival  of  fresh  workers  for  the  Mother  Lode. 
Supt.  Sumner  looked  with  alarm,  first  to 
one  and  then  to  the  other  horn  of  the  dilemma 
which  confronted  him:  If  the  prostrations 
continued,  a  season  of  great  suffering  stared 
in  the  face  of  the  community; — on  the  other 
233 


234        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

hand,  a  rapid  recovery  of  the  many  afflicted 
would  over-stock  the  Company  with  laborers, 
and  great  unrest  with  its  train  of  social  and 
industrial  evils  must  follow. 

He  reported  faithfully  the  condition  of 
affairs  at  the  works,  each  day,  and  lately 
his  letters  advising  a  more  conservative 
treatment  of  these  conditions  became  more 
frequent  and  urgent.  But  still  the  general 
office  in  Philadelphia  could  see  no  reason 
why  the  full  force  of  active  employes  should 
not  be  kept  up;  the  market  was  steady,  and 
the  demand  for  coal  was  increasing  beyond 
their  present  ability  to  meet  it.  And  so 
the  shipment  of  raw  hands  came  almost 
daily.  It  was  not  difficult  to  know  how  to 
dispose  of  these  fresh  importations;  for 
the  present,  they  only  took  the  place  of 
those  laid  off  by  sickness; — but  the  future 
was  before  him,  dark,  unprovided,  threatening. 

The  suffering  which  had  followed  the 
ravages  of  the  epidemic;  the  lack  of  means 
to  provide  the  bare  necessities  of  life  and 
also  to  secure  the  equally  necessary  luxuries 
which  the  sick  so  much  require,  was  well 
beyond  the  reach  of  the  poor  and  unem 
ployed  of  Carbon  Vale. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        235 

The  good  physician  gave  freely  of  his 
professional  services  and  also  of  his  by  no 
means  plethoric  purse.  He  disliked  to  make 
appeals  to  the  generosity  of  others,  and  yet 
his  own  slender  means,  but  fertile  resources 
were  nearly  exhausted;  relief  must  come 
from  some  new  and  more  powerful  source, 
to  stay  the  hand  of  want  that  would  not 
wait.  He  would  make  his  appeal  to  Ralph 
Sumner,  the  large-hearted  man  of  business, 
he  knew  he  would  not  be  turned  aside; — the 
man  of  noble  principles  must,  to  his  thinking, 
be  the  man  of  strong  charitable  impulses; 
and  Dr.  Acton  was  not  mistaken. 

"Yes,  Doctor;  when  you  find  need,  pro 
vide  against  it  by  ordering  in  my  name. 
When  my  inability  to  pay  overtakes  me, 
I  will  notify  you."  This  the  manager  of 
the  Mother  Lode  said  in  response  to  the 
doctor's  importunity. 

"But  I  hoped  to  reach  the  heart  of  the 
Company  itself  through  you,  Mr.  Sumner; 
I  hardly  expected  you  to  do  it  all,  sir," 
apologized  the  friend  of  the  poor. 

"What  is  to  be  done  in  that  line  can  only 
be  done  by  personal  contribution;  the  Company 
as  a  corporation,  will  do  nothing,  I  am  sure," 


236        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

discouraged  the  superintendent.  "But,"  he 
quickly  added,  noting  the  effect  of  his  words, 
"I  will  write  a  strong  letter  to  Mr.  Crosby, 
asking  for  some  assistance  in  the  matter." 

"That  will  be  the  thing  to  do,  Mr.  Sumner; 
I  thank  you  for  your  interest,"  and  he  took 
up  his  hat  and  gloves  ready  to  depart. 

"Any  news  from  among  the  miners?  By 
the  way,  I  have  not  met  our  friend  Darrell 
for  some  time.  How  does  he  come  on?" 
asked  the  manager. 

"Well;  I  met  him  last  night,  on  the  street 
a  few  moments;  and,  say!  You  know  of 
his  success  in  the  role  of  detective  in  that — 
that  assault  case? — Well,  there  is  another 
cap  and  shoe  trail  that  he  is  following;  but 
I  do  not  know  where  it  may  lead;  in  fact, 
Luke  scarcely  sees  the  trend  himself."  As 
he  could  not  acquaint  the  manager  with 
any  more  facts  in  this  matter,  he  bade  him 
good-day. 

His  professional  visits  brought  him  into 
the  Latin  quarters  of  the  town,  and  here 
he  soon  stood  within  the  little  hut  where, 
on  the  previous  night,  Jack  and  Worry 
had  brought  the  Italian  Stefano.  He  found 
the  occupant  of  the  place  restless  and  feverish, 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        237 

and  no  one  to  give  him  even  a  cup  of  water 
to  slake  his  burning  thirst.  The  physician, 
as  in  many  other  similar  instances,  found 
a  cup  and  placed  it,  filled  with  cool,  fresh 
water,  within  the  man's  reach.  He  also 
put  the  scanty  furnishings  in  order,  somewhat. 
It  was  while  thus  employed  that  he  started 
with  some  surprise,  when  his  eyes  beheld 
the  cap,  shoes,  and  trousers  described  by 
Luke,  as  being  the  gift  of  Worry  Watson 
to  some  needy  person;  he  was  also  sure  that 
the  clothing  of  this  sick  Italian  had  hung 
in  the  same  place  on  the  previous  day. 

Dr.  Acton  was  now  certain  that  some 
thing  was  wrong,  but  it  presented  an  enigma 
he  could  not  solve.  He  scrutinized  the 
features  of  the  sick  man  and  also  looked 
around  him  to  make  sure  that  this  was  the 
place  he  supposed  he  was  visiting;  but  this 
only  carried  the  stronger  conviction,  as  he 
was,  now  doubly  certain  of  the  change  of 
the  clothing. 

His  mind  sought  an  explanation.  Did 
Worry  Watson  or  Jack  Farntfm  make  this 
exchange,  in  order  to  effect  a  disguise  for 
criminal  purposes?  Quickly  the  practised 
mind  of  the  physician,  skilled  in  reading 


238        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

disease  from  slight  symptoms,  ran  over 
the  stock  of  events  connected  with  the  lives 
of  these  two  desperate  men,  that  had  come 
to  his  knowledge.  Was  it  their  purpose 
to  jump  their  bail  bonds?  This  would 
mean  much  to  himself  and  Mr.  Sumner, 
and  should  be  prevented;  he  knew  that 
the  circumstances  connected  with  the  killing 
of  Gaudio  would  be  entirely  in  favor  of  these 
men-,  who  had  been  named  as  accessories 
in  the  case;  but  was  it  so  plain  to  them? 
He  had  tried  to  see  Worry  several  times 
about  the  matter,  but  without  success. 

Had  Jack  Farnam  also  provided  himself 
with  a  disguise  in  like  manner?  Then  his 
mind  turned  to  other  incidents  until  he 
recalled  the  scene  at  the  jail  in  which  Clarissa 
had  figured.  What  had  been  said  and  done 
there?  Suddenly  he  turned  pale;  he  grasped 
the  back  of  a  chair  for  support!  Was  he 
the  principal  victim  of  this  deep-laid  de 
ception?  He  recalled  Clarissa's  warning  that 
the  two  men  on  that  fatal  night  had  sworn 
vengeance  on  his  head.  This  was,  then,  the 
trend  of  Luke's  new  discoveries!  Had  his  friend 
purposely  kept  him  in  ignorance  of  the  mean 
ing  of  the  facts  he  had  learned?  If  so,  for 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        239 

what  reason?  It  would  be  most  natural,  he 
thought,  for  Luke  to  put  him  on  his  guard. 

Herbert  Acton  was  now  much  disturbed 
in  his  thoughts;  what  course  to  pursue  he 
found  a  difficulty  in  choosing.  He  could 
go  to  Reading,  to  Philadelphia,  anywhere. 
He  could  go  before  the  magistrate,  and  ask 
to  be  released  from  the  bail  bonds  of  these 
two  offenders;  and  this  would  deprive  them 
of  their  liberty.  Each  of  the  above  plans 
of  escape,  from  what  he  now  concluded 
was  his  destiny,  he  discarded  as  either  dis 
honorable  or  cowardly; — he  could  be  neither. 
Likewise  the  thought  of  arming  himself 
was  distasteful  to  him,  for  he  had  always 
felt  perfectly  secure  in  and  out  among  the 
people  of  Carbon  Vale; — a  truly  brave  man 
generally  despises  the  thought  that  defenses 
against  assassins  and  lawbreakers  are  at  all 
necessary.  He  would  consult  Luke; — this 
met  his  approval; — and  for  this  he  knew 
he  should  have  plenty  of  time  before  his 
foes  could  strike.  He  might  also  lay  his 
fears  before  Ralph  Sumner,  but  he  hesitated, 
for  he  did  not  like  to  show  the  white  feather. 

Thus  debating  with  himself,  the  good 
Samaritan  went  his  rounds,  giving  cheer 


240        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

on  every  hand  and  dispensing  both  medical 
skill  and  real  charity.  One  thought,  however, 
was  uppermost  in  his  mind;  yes,  his  con 
clusion  was  early  reached,  and  it  somehow 
took  the  edge  off  his  fears; — he  would  seek 
the  opportunity  of  again  declaring  his  love 
to  Clarissa;  she  was  now  quite  recovered 
from  her  injuries,  and  he  so  much  desired 
to  know  her  heart.  This  purpose  occupied 
his  thoughts  and  cheered  the  anxious,  wait 
ing  hours. 

When  Luke  came  to  the  meeting  of  the 
roads,  in  the  gray  dawn  that  morning,  he 
found  Clarissa  Watson  already  awaiting  him. 

"Good  morning,  Clarissa!  You  are  punc 
tual,  my  girl,"  greeted  the  miner,  shifting 
his  dinner  pail  to  the  other  hand.  "Here, 
take  my  arm,  please;  for  the  path  is  rough 
and  slippery;  you  are  not  strong,  either, 
dear."  He  still  felt  that  he  had  some  right 
to  show  great  tenderness, — for  had  he  not 
told  her  of  his  affection  for  her;  therefore, 
could  he  not  not  also  express  it? 

The  young  woman  did  not  greatly  enjoy 
these  overtures  of  her  friend;  for,  while 
she  knew  his  sincerity  and  pardoned  his 
slight  presumption,  she  sensibly  recoiled  for 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        241 

reasons  all  her  own;  but  he  could  not  imagine 
that  any  obstacles  to  his  suit  existed;  she 
knew  that. 

"You  must  be  very  attentive,  and  listen 
now,"  she  said,  giving  these  overtures  little 
notice;  to  enter  upon  the  mission  on  which 
she  had  come  would  wholly  disarm  him  in 
any  familiar  advances. 

"Yes,  Clarissa;  go  on,  my  dear,"  he  tenderly 
persisted,  bending  his  tall  form,  courteously, 
to  catch  her  confidences. 

"Father  came  home  very  late  last  night, 
and  he  was  very  much  — ."  Here  she  hes 
itated,  and  he  felt  the  tremor  that  passed 
over  the  girl's  slight  form. 

"There,  there,  dear;  I  understand."  He 
would  spare  her  feelings  as  best  he  could. 

"I  asked  him  so  many,  many  questions, 
and  learned  that  he  had  passed  the  whole 
evening  in  the  company  of  Jack  Farnam; 
he  had  not  a  little  to  say  about  the  Italian 
and  about  an  Italian,  and  that  leads  me  to 
think  he  specially  met  two  of  the  race." 

"Yes,  yes;  I  see;  go  on!  encouraged  Luke 
with  deep  interest. 

"He  said  the  clothes  he  took  to  the  man 
didn't  fit;  but  that  the  fellow  was  going  to 


exchange  them  with  another,  so  both  would 
be  suited."  She  stopped,  for  her  companion 
had  pressed  her  hand  somewhat  closer  to 
his  side  and  had  looked  so  earnestly  into  her 
eyes. 

"Do  you  think,  Luke,  that  any  of  the  signs 
you  seem  to  see  in  these  things  point  toward 
harm  to — to  anyone?"  She  spoke  rapidly; 
she  regarded  his  face,  now  in  a  brown  study, 
wistfully. 

"I  fear  so!  yes,  I  fear  so — but  I  can  hardly 
tell  what  I  fear."  He  answered  first  hastily, 
then  evasively. 

"Oh,  Luke!  Do  you  think  it  is  Herbert? — 
Dr.  Acton,  I  mean?"  She  betrayed  great 
emotion;  her  hand  slipped  from  his  arm 
and  she  stood  now,  pale  and  trembling  be 
fore  him,  blocking  his  path. 

"And  why  Herbert  Acton?"  with  the 
slight  emphasis  indicated. 

"Why,  really,  I  have  some  reason  to  fear 
that  Jack  and — father  harbor  some  ill  feel 
ings  toward  Dr.  Acton."  She  said  doctor 
very  distinctly  this  time  and  Luke  noticed 
the  careful  change. 

Hurriedly,  Clarissa  related  the  conver 
sation  of  the  men,  overheard  at  the  jail 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        243 

when  they  threatened  the  physician's  life. 
Her  companion  quieted  her  fears  on  that 
score  as  best  he  could,  but  she  continued 
standing  before  him,  blanched  and  trembling. 

"Let  us  move  on,  Clarissa — Miss  Watson?" 
He  changed  his  address  to  the  more  formal, 
for  his  suspicions  were  suddenly  aroused 
by  her  great  emotion  and  the  facts  betrayed 
in  her  unguarded  reference  to  Dr.  Acton. 

"Is  that  all  you  have  to  tell?"  Luke 
spoke  calmly — the  lack  of  tenderness,  so 
usual  in  his  voice,  was  also  apparent. 

"Luke,  what  is  this?"  taking  a  small  roll- 
like  package  from  her  pocket. 

The  man  carefully  removed  the  paper 
from  a  small,  cylindrical,  gray  object;  at 
one  end  gleamed  a  bright  copper-point. 
He  started  in  alarm. 

"Where  did  you  get  this,  girl?" 

"Father  was  very  careful  to  take  this 
from  his  pocket  last  night,  and  hid  it,  as 
he  supposed;  but  I  watched  him,  and, — oh, 
Luke,  I  did  what  I  have  never  done  before; — 
I  took  this  and  put  that  in  its  place  which 
would  deceive  him.  He  did  not  know; 
for  he  was  very  careful  this  morning  to  hurry 
it  into  his  dinner-pail.  But  what  is  it  Luke?" 


244        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

The  strong  man  stopped  and  held  her 
back.  "Now  look, — or  listen  rather."  As 
he  spoke  he  hurled  the  thing  at  a  rock  some 
two  or  three  rods  away,  striking  on  the  bright 
copper  point.  A  report  like  that  of  a  gun 
rent  the  air  about  them  and  brought  a  shower 
of  snow  and  icicles  from  an  overhanging 
pine. 

"There!  I  guess  it  can  do  no  more  harm! — 
Enough!  enough!  Miss  Watson;  now  go  home, 
girl,  and  do  not  give  over  your  watching; 
for,  I  will  say,  that  such  things  mean  trouble." 
He  stopped  speaking  abruptly. 

Her  face  white  and  anxious,  she  quickly 
asked,  "What  was  it,  Luke?" 

"Dynamite,  girl!  Did  you  not  see  and 
hear? — But  say  nothing  about  it.  There, 
go  home  now.  I  must  thank  you  too,  Clarissa." 
He  started  on  his  way.  "Goodbye,"  he 
called  over  his  shoulder,  and  in  another  moment 
he  was  gone  in  answer  to  the  warning  whistle 
from  the  works,  which  she  well  understood 
left  no  time  for  delay. 

Her  heart  would  not  stand  still;  her  limbs 
trembled,  and  the  road  seemed  strange  and 
uncertain  to  her.  What  did  all  this  mean? 
Did  her  father  really  contemplate  some 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        245 

awful  crime?  or  why  should  he  have  such 
an  engine  of  destruction  in  his  possession? 
Would  he  use  it?  and  for  what?  V 

She  thought,  as  the  only  possible  explan 
ation,  of  his  threats  upon  the  life  of  Herbert 
Acton.  What  should  she  do? — What  could 
she  do? — Yes,  she  would  tell  her  lover — 
he  was  her  lover;  she  was  sure  of  that,  for 
he  had  told  her  so!  And,  yes,  she  knew 
that  she  loved  this  noble,  self-sacrificing 
man;  or  why  should  she  tremble  so  at  his 
impending  danger? 

When  she  reached  home,  broken  down 
with  fatigue  and  dread,  she  sought  her  couch 
for  rest;  this  tended  to  quiet  the  fear  and 
agitation  which  was  upon  her,  and  ere 
she  realized  this  her  eyes  were  closed  in 
sleep,  and  nature's  gentle  restorative  com 
posed  both  mind  and  body. 

It  was  bright  noon  when  she  awoke,  with 
the  low  south  sun  shining  full  upon  her 
face.  She  started  up,  and  tried  to  recollect 
what  had  happened;  she  was  calmer  now. 

"Clarissa,  may  I  come  in?"  It  was  the 
childish  voice  of  Margery  Waring. 

"Why,  Margery,  how  glad  I  am  to  see 
you." — "There,  I  thought  you  had  forgotten 


246        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

me,  quite; where  have  you  been?"  She  looked 
the  gratitude  she  felt  for  the  kindly  visit 
of  the  humble,  sweet  child. 

"Father  and  me  have  been  helping  to 
nurse  the  poor  people  who  are  down  with 
the  la  grippe"  Most  of  the  people  had 
learned  to  call  the  epidemic  "the  la  grippe." 

"How  very  kind!"  exclaimed  Clarissa. 

"Yes,  and  we  have  been  well  paid,  too. — 
See!  Dr.  Acton  gave  me  this;"  holding  up 
a  shining  dollar.  "And  he  gives  father 
good  wages  for  just  seeing  to  some  of  the 
sick.  Ain't  he  good,  Clarissa?"  She  put 
her  question  with  upturned,  eager  eyes. 

"Yes,  Margery;  Dr.  Acton  is  the  kindest, 
noblest  man  I  know!  I  am  so  glad  he  has 
been  kind  to  you  and  your  unfortunate  father," 
said  with  a  double  sincerity. 

"Yes — and  he  told  father — that  when  he 
was  well  again — he  would  see  that  he  was 
made  a  regular  nurse.  Won't  that  be  nice? 
And  then  he  won't  have  to  work  in  the  mines 
any  more.  "Her  face  glowed  with  the  an 
imation  that  real  pleasure  gives. 

"Yes,  yes,  child.  How  noble!  how  like 
Herbert!"  She  would  have  violated  her 
truest  feelings  had  she  said  Doctor  Acton. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        247 

"Is  that  his  name,  Clarissa? — Herbert, 
Herbert!  Ain't  it  a  pretty  name!"  The 
girl  was  delighted  with  the  new-found  name 
for  one  she  so  much  respected  and  admired. 

"Yes,  Margery,  it  is  the  name  of  a  noble 
man;  it  is  a  dear  name."  She  felt  the  need 
of  some  one  with  whom  to  share  her  confi 
dence,  and  she  knew  that  she  could  speak 
freely  with  her  little  caller  without  arousing 
a  suspicion  of  her  own  deep  and  tender  passion. 

"Clarissa,  Dr.  Acton  asked  me  if  I  knew 
anyone  who  would  watch  a  few  hours  this 
afternoon  with  a  poor  sick  I-talian,  and  I 
told  him  I'd  find  someone.  But  I  didn't 
think  of  you  then. — Can  you  go,  Clarissa?" 
The  girl  was  pleading  for  her  friend's  help. 

"Yes,  dear,  I'll  go.  Where'll  I  find  the 
place?"  Eager,  now,  and  ready  even  in 
her  weak  condition  and  trouble  of  heart. — 
And  Dr.  Acton  needed  her! 

"I  can  take  you  there;  it  isn't  far  from  our 
house.  Father  told  me  to  bring  you  if  you 
could  come;  and  we'll  eat  dinner  that  he 
is  getting  ready  for  us,  first."  Margery 
was  dancing  her  delight  in  the  pleasant 
prospect  of  this  new  surprise  for  her  friend. 

Til    go,     Margery    dear,"    said    Clarissa. 


"T'l 


248        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

And  when  Herbert  Acton  called  that  after 
noon  at  the  home  of  the  Watsons,  the  one 
he  had  thought  all  day  to  find  was  gone; 
and  he  did  not  know  that  he  was,  indirectly, 
the  innocent  cause  of  her  absnce. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

CHASING  A  PHANTOM 

"The  maid  who  binds  her  warrior's  sash, 
"With  smiles  that  well  her  grief  dissembles, 
"The  while  beneath  her  drooping  lash 
"One  starry  tear-drop  hangs  and  trembles," 

— Anon. 

The  day  in  the  mines  was  one  of  unusual 
activity;  the  tracks  leading  to  the  new  pit 
had  been  rushed  to  completion,  and  the 
pumps  which  had,  up  to  this  time,  been  run 
ning  at  full  speed,  were  telling  off  their  strokes 
with  a  monotonous  regularity  which  plainly 
said,  the  water  in  that  part  of  the  works  was 
now  under  control. 

"She's  all  right  now,  Dale!"  exclaimed 
Inspector  Walsh,  with  an  air  of  satisfaction. 

"Hope  to  God,  she  is!"  was  the  brief 
response.  "D'ye  find  any  'damp'  in  that 
quarter,  Walsh?" 

"None,"  was  the  laconic  answer. 

"Then  where  in  hell's   the   use  of  stickin' 
to  the  Davies?"  asked  Dale  pettishly. 
249 


250        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"No  use!  Only  it's  the  order;  and  on 
the  Company's  part  a  damn  poor  order, 
too,"  observed  the  inspector. 

Both  men  remained  silent  for  some  mo 
ments;  both  seemed  to  consider  how  the  order 
prohibiting  the  naked  lights  might  be  circum 
vented.  At  length  it  was  the  Pit  Boss  who  spoke. 

"If  the  men  choose  to  use  the  open  lamps 
what's  the  harm,  Walsh?" 

"No  harm;  there  can't  be  a  bit  o'  danger; — 
only  some  one  might  report  it,  and  I  for  one 
don't  want  to  be  held  responsible,"  was 
the  guarded  reply. 

"Who's  goin'  to  blow  on  us?  Besides, 
if  it  does  get  to  the  Superintendent's  ears, 
we  can  both  say  we  had  our  orders  from 
Crosby. — Aint  that  enough!  He  was  still 
angry  at  Supt.  Sumner's  order — an  order 
interfering  with  what  he  was  pleased  to  re 
gard  as  a  permit  from  the  official  head  of 
the  Mother  Lode. 

"All  right!  If  you  think  you  can  manage 
it,  and  don't  go  to  layin'  the  blame  on  my 
shoulders,  do  as  you  please.  Only  I  wash 
my  hands  of  the  whole  matter."  It  was 
Pilate  who  set  the  mine  inspector  a  remark 
able  example. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        251 

Dale  moved  away,  pleased  and  fully  re 
solved  that  so  many  of  the  pit  men  as  chose 
could  go  to  their  work  on  the  following  day 
equipped  with  naked  lights.  He  would  thus 
gain  the  approbation  of  the  Company's 
president  and  also  the  good  will  of  the  miners, 
and  then,  his  grudge  against  the  Super 
intendent  would  be  partly  paid  off. 

Luke  Darrell  looked  in  vain  for  other 
signs  of  treachery  on  the  part  of  Jack  Farnam 
and  Worry  Watson.  He  also  failed  to  iden 
tify  the  man  he  expected  to  see  rigged  out 
in  the  regimentals  described  by  Clarissa. 
If  the  dynamite  cartridge  was  to  aid  in  carry 
ing  out  the  threat  of  the  men  the  day  before, 
it  was  safe.  That  part  of  their  plan  had 
been  actually  exploded. 

Everything  went  on  smoothly,  and  the 
wonted  hum  of  industry  alone  rewarded  the 
sturdy,  listening  fellow's  keen  ears.  He  won 
dered  several  times,  how  the  arch  conspirators 
explained  the  fraud  which  must  have  been 
found  in  Watson's  dinner-pail.  Would  they 
charge  Clarissa  with  practicing  this  fraud 
upon  them?  If  so,  what  would  be  the  con 
sequences  to  her?  Worry  Watson,  though 
a  rough  man,  possessed  of  many  brutish 


252        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

instincts,  he  knew,  loved  the  girl  most  ten 
derly  and  always  treated  her  kindly.  But 
he  knew  too,  that  she  had  never, — perhaps  not 
in  the  slightest  matter, — by  word  or  deed, 
deceived  her  father.  Well,  on  that  matter 
only  time  could  answer.  Finally  he  for 
sook  his  conjectures. 

The  fact  was  that  Jack  and  Worry  had 
overheard  the  conversation  of  Walsh  and 
Dale,  and  had  decided  to  delay  their  purpose 
until  the  following  day; — a  flame  was  a 
much  safer  and  surer  way  of  accomplishing 
their  object,  than  was  dynamite.  Hence 
the  bold  artifice  of  Clarissa  was  not  dis 
covered.  The  roll  lay  untouched  at  the  bot 
tom  of  the  pail. 

But  the  man  who  was  so  determinedly 
defending  the  interest  of  the  Mother  Lode — 
the  safety  of  human  life  and  property — did 
not  know  this  phase  of  the  matter.  When, 
therefore,  he  was  interrupted  at  supper- 
time  by  a  loud  knock  at  the  door,  he  was 
not  wholly  surprised  to  see  Clarissa  Watson. 
On  opening  the  door  he  found  her,  terribly 
agitated  and  panting  for  breath. 

"Oh,  Luke— Mr.  Darrell!  You  will  pro 
tect  me,"  and  she  dropped  faint  and  tremb- 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        253 

ling  into  the  chair  which  Mrs.  Darrell  quickly 
pushed  toward  her. 

"Be  calm,  dear;  there,  there!  do  not  fear 
anything;  for  I  will  defend  you  with  my 
life,  Clarissa!"  The  strong  man  was  in 
specting  his  limbs  and  muscles  and  brawny 
fists,  as  the  trained  soldier  might  his  accoutre 
ments  of  war. 

"Indeed,  he  will,  my  child!  Don't  be 
skeared;  but  tell  us  about  it,"  reassured 
the  old  lady. 

"Did  Worry — or  your  father,  I  mean — 
Did  he  discover  what  you  have  done  with 
the  dynamite?"  He  supposed  of  course, 
that  he  was  called  upon  to  protect  her  from 
her  father's  wrath. 

"Dynamite!  What  dynamite,  Luke?  D'ye 
mean  to  say  they're  goin'  to  use  dynamite?" 
anxiously  enquired  the  mother. 

"No,  mother  dear!  That  dynamite's  been 
used.  Hey,  Clarissa?"  An  effort  to  com 
fort  both  and  dispel  their  fears  in  his  mean 
ing  smile. 

"Oh,  ,no,  Luke!  Don't  think  it  is  my  father 
I  fear.  It  is  one  of  the  men  who  beat  me  so; 
he  works  in  the  Mother  Lode;  I  saw  him 
tonight.  He  is  the  man,  father  gave  the 


254        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

clothes  to — and  I  mean  that,  if  possible, 
he  shall  wear  them  to  his  work  tomorrow; 
and  then  the  officers  can  arrest  him."  This 
short  disjointed  account  called  for  further 
explanation  which  we  can  give  only  in  sub 
stance. 

The  young  woman  had  watched  beside  the 
sick  man  in  the  little  hut  where  hung  the 
articles  of  dress  that  her  father  had  taken 
from  home,  and  which  we  have  learned  so 
greatly  disturbed  the  peace  of  Dr.  Acton. 
The  gentle,  confiding  daughter,  on  behold- 
the  outfit,  had  too  readily  credited  her  parent 
with  a  genuine  act  of  charity;  yes,  he  had  really 
given  these  things  to  this  poor,  sick  Italian.  But 
latershe  was  startled  by  the  entrance,  at  quit 
ting  time,  of  another  of  these  foreigners, 
and  upon  looking  into  his  face,  was  hor 
rified  to  find  that  he  was  one  of  the  men  who 
had  beaten  her  so  severely  and  left  her  for 
dead,  on  that  dreadful  night.  The  man 
had  perhaps  recognized  her; — or  he  might 
have  imagined  it  to  be  the  ghost  of  her  former 
self,  for  he  incontinently  fled,  after  his  first 
sight  of  her. 

Knowing  her  father's  habit  of  stopping 
about  the  saloons  on  his  way  from  work 


Clarissa  had  taken  advantage  of  the  fact 
to  hurry  to  Luke  and  acquaint  him  with 
her  discovery  of  the  John  Doe  in  her  case, — 
as  she  supposed  and  as  Luke  also  believed. 
The  girl  further  suggested  that  if  Luke  could 
see  Mark  Waring,  the  latter  might  be  able 
to  remove  the  clothes-  of  the  criminal  while 
he  slept,  and  thus  he  would  be  compelled 
to  wear  the  distinguishing  costume  pro 
vided  by  her  father. 

Assured  by  her  friends,  the  Darrells,  that 
her  plan  should  be  carried  out,  she  hastened 
home  to  serve  the  evening  meal  for  her 
parent. 

Mark  w&s  soon  in  possession  of  the  girl's 
plan,  and  his  own  ready  wit  and  ingenuity 
assisted  not  a  little  in  bringing  the  same 
to  a  successful  issue.  He  knew  the  place; 
had  been  there  before  under  Dr.  Acton's 
directions;  he  would  go  again;  now!  and  would 
tell  the  occupants  of  the  hut — the  sick  Italian 
and  the  suspected  Italian — that  he  would 
return  again  at  a  late  hour;  on  taking  his 
second  leave,  he  would  put  out  the  light — he 
would  carefully  take  bearings  first;  and 
then  he  would  "lift"  the  brown  clothes, 
and  leave  instead  only  the  outlandish  cap 


256        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

and  blue  trousers  for  the  well  man  to  go  to 
work  in. 

Luke  patted  him  playfully,  but  gently 
on  his  well  shoulder: — 

"You  are  going  to  make  your  way,  Mark,  in 
spite  of  your  loss." 

"I  am  beginning  to  do  quite  well,  already, 
friend  Darrell.  Dr.  Acton  has  promised  to 
put  me  on  the  regular  staff  of  nurses,  when 
I  am  strong  again."  Pleasure  shone  in 
his  face,  and  thrilled  his  voice. 

It  was  determined  that  on  the  morrow 
Mark  Waring  would  inform  an  officer  of 
the  law,  that  John  Doe,  wanted  for  assault, 
could  in  all  probability  be  found  in  the  dig 
gings  of  the  Mother  Lode;  the  officer  was 
to  apply  to  Luke  to  point  out  the  man.  These 
two  friends  and  fellow  detectives,  little 
dreaming  how  their  plans  were  to  be  thwarted, 
parted  for  the  night. 

When  Herbert  Acton  failed  to  find  Miss 
Watson  at  home  on  the  afternoon  of  this 
day,  he  consoled  himself  with  the  thought 
that  he  could  call  again  in  the  evening; 
his  fears  had  so  far  been  dispelled  that  the 
dread  of  meeting  an  assassin  on  such  a  mis 
sion  did  not  occur  to  him;  in  fact,  he  laughed 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        257 

at  his  own  foolish  fears.  He  could  give 
no  motive  to  any  threats  either  of  Worry  or 
Jack;  and,  now  that  he  stood  bound  for  them 
before  the  law,  he  was  sure  that  any  motive 
that  might  actuate  them  to  vengeance  on  his 
head,  was  entirely  removed. 

He  would  seek  Luke,  however,  as  he  had 
planned,  and  learn  what  purpose  the  noble 
miner  might  have  in  following  such  lines 
of  investigation  in  which  he  seemed  so  much 
absorbed.  After  his  evening  meal,  there 
fore,  he  took  hat  and  cane  for  a  walk  to  the 
home  of  the  Darrells. 

The  good  lady  was  "just  tidyin'  up  a 
little"  as  she  expressed  it: — 

"No,  my  son  is  not  at  home  just  at  pres 
ent;  but  come  in,  Doctor;  he'll  be  back 
soon.  There,  now  take  this  easy  chair, 
near  the  fire." 

"Very  lovely  weather  we  are  having, 
Mrs.  Darrell;  ah,  I  thank  you,  for  it  is  quite 
cold  out."  He  took  the  proffered  seat  at 
the  glowing  fire-place,  warming  his  hands 
to  show  his  appreciation  of  the  good  woman's 
intended  courtesy. 

"The  la  grippe  is  still  pretty  bad,  I  hear. 
This  will  be  a  sorry  Christmas  for  many 


258        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

a  poor  family,  Doctor."  Her  strong  sympathy 
went  out  to  the  suffering  and  poverty-stricken 
about  her. 

"Yes,  I  don't  see  how  the  health  of  the 
community  could  be  much  worse.  There 
is  great  distress  among  the  poor  of  this  little 
village,  Mrs.  Darrell."  He  lapsed  a  moment 
into  deep  reverie. 

The  housewife  completed  her  "tidyin'  up," 
and  took  up  a  piece  of  sewing; — her  withered 
hands  were  never  idle. 

"How  is  it,  Mrs.  Darrell,  you  women 
are  always  busy?  always  at  work,  even  while 
resting?"  and  the  young  man  smiled  at 
his  apparent  paradox. 

"Well,  as  I .  used  to  tell  Mr.  Darrell,— 
that's  Luke's  father  that  was — I  used  to 
say,  man  works  from  sun  to  sun,  but  woman's 
work  is  never  done,"  she  replied.  "But,  Dr. 
Acton,  your  work  has  been  from  morn  to  night, 
and  from  night  to  morn  again;  h'ain't  it?" 

"I  must  confess,  my  good  woman,  that 
for  the  past  few  weeks  there  has  been  but 
little  time  to  swap  jack-knives." 

"And  how  is  Mark  Waring,  Doctor?" 
Still  deeply  concerned  about  the  well-being 
of  others. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        259 

"It's  wonderful  how  well  Mark  is  getting 
along;  why,  he  is  up  and  at  work  most  of 
the  time,  now."  He  showed  real  pleasure 
in  telling  the  good  news. 

"At  work,  did  you  say?  why,  that  is  won 
derful;  and  only  one  arm;  and  that  his  left 
one!  How  can  he  handle  pick  or  shovel?" 
The  old  lady  adjusted  her  spectacles,  to 
read  her  visitor's  face. 

"Oh,  you  misunderstand  me,  Mrs.  Darrell! 
Mark  is  not  at  work  in  the  mines;  he  is  help 
ing  to  take  care  of  the  sick.  He  makes  a 
capital  nurse.  When  he  is  well  and  strong 
again,  I  mean  that  he  shall  be  on  the  regular 
staff,"  explained  the  guest. 

"Dr.  Acton,  let  me  thank  you  for  your 
kindness  to  this  poor  man.  Why  can't 
the  world  always  be  so  towards  the  poor? 
A  few  Sundays  back  our  pastor  preached  from 
the  text.  'The  poor  ye  have  always  with 
you';  and  in  that  sermon  he  said,  God  give 
us  the  poor  to  make  us  charitable  and  good 
to  'em;  but  how  much  the  rich  forget  'em, — ex 
cept  to  use  'em  for  slaves."  It  was  a  great 
effort — this  little  plea  for  the  oppressed  and 
forgotten;  and  she  showed  the  surprise  she 
felt  at  its  length. 


260        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"Yes,  there  are  many,  many  things  that 
are  wrong  in  the  social  constitution  of  our 
world,  and  this  is  one  of  them;  that  a  cor 
poration  should  be  permitted  to  use  a  man 
up  to  the  limit  of  his  bodily  strength — until 
disease,  or  injury,  or  old  age  overtakes  him, 
and  then  throw  him  upon  the  world  to  seek 
his  living  as  best  he  can — or  to  starve!" 
This  was  a  new  view  of  the  case  to  the  simple- 
minded  woman,  but  it  required  no  deep 
insight  to  see  that  Dr.  Acton  was  referring 
to  the  too  common  practice,  that  the  law 
winked  at  and  that  was  wholly  unjust. 

"Well,  well,  Doctor!  That  would  be  called 
downright  socialism,  by  the  companies ;  you  sure 
ly  don't  preach  such  doctrines  before  them?" 
And  the  old  lady  really  looked  concerned  for 
her  friend's  safety — or  soundness  of  mind. 

"Well,  if  that  kind  of  doctrine  is  distaste 
ful  to  the  Mother  Lode  Company,  or  any 
other  corporation,  it  could  make  no  differ 
ence  to  me.  It  is  unjust  and,  therefore, 
I  can  fearlessly  proclaim  against  it;  for  did 
not  our  Saviour  say  to  his  disciples,  'what 
ye  hear  in  the  ear,  that  preach  ye  upon  the 
house-tops'?"  A  strong  determination  lighted 
the  features  of  the  young  philosopher. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        261 

It  was  quite  late  when  Luke  returned. 
The  construction  which  he  placed  upon  his 
discoveries  was  ratherr  natural,  and  had 
the  effect  of  completely  removing  the  fears 
of  his  medical  friend,  that,  somehow,  these 
strange  facts  pointed  to  his  own  undoing. 

The  hour  for  calling  to  see  Clarissa  was 
past,  and,  with  some  reluctance,  and  much 
good  taste,  he  decided  to  postpone  his  call 
to  the  following  afternoon. 


CHAPTER  XX 

A  SOUND  OF  REVELRY 

"He  got  some  gold,  dug  from  the  mud, 

"Some  silver,  crushed  from  stones. 

"The  gold  was  red  with  dead  men's  blood, 

"The  silver  black  with  groans. 

"And  when  he  died  he  moaned  aloud, 

"There'll  be  no  pockets  in  my  shroud!" 

— Joaquin  Miller. 

The  residence  of  Henry  Crosby,  president 
of  the  Mother  Lode  Mining  Company,  was 
a  blaze  of  splendor.  The  walk  leading  from 
the  front  door  was  hooded  in,  for  the  fast- 
falling  flakes  of  a  wet,  clinging  snow  rendered 
the  path  unpleasant  for  the  lightly-clad 
feet  and  sweeping  trains  that  traversed  it. 
Streams  of  carriages  passed  up  to  the  gate 
discharging  their  occupants  and  then  wheeled 
away  again,  their  liveried  drivers  and  footmen 
clad  in  the  ermine  snow  that  hid  all  save 
the  brass  buttons  and  other  shining  insignia. 

At  the  door  of  the  mansion,  the  guests 
were  received  by  well-dressed  attendants 
and,  when  elegant,  costly  wraps  had  been 
262 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        263 

laid  aside,  the  announcements  were  called 
at  the  door  of  the  brilliantly  lighted  drawing- 
room,  where  assembled  the  elite  and  fashion 
able  of  the  Quaker  City.  Strains  of  music 
discoursed  by  a  select  orchestra,  flooded 
the  air;  choice  exotics  shed  sweet  perfumes; 
beauty  of  form  and  elegance  of  dress  ap 
peared  everywhere;  and  society — rich,  showy, 
refined — paid  its  obsequious  homage  to  op 
ulent  wealth. 

The  great  Arch  Street  magnate  was  to 
give  on  this  occasion,  the  hand  of  his  brilliant 
and  admired  daughter  to  a  man  of  reputed 
wealth  and  a  devotee  to  fashion. 

Everywhere  throughout  the  magnificent 
palace  which  financial  power  had  reared 
as  a  monument  to  the  fabulous  wealth  of  its 
owner,  were  to  be  seen  jeweled  hands  and  necks, 
costumes  of  silk  and  broadcloth,  smiles  of  pleas 
ure  mingled  with  looks  of  expectancy.  Happy 
conversation  and  society  chit-chat  held  the 
company  in  little  groups,  while  here  and  there 
lounged  some  at  luxurious  ease,  silently 
regarding  the  several  groups  of  fashion's 
superb  models;  all  anxiously  awaited  the 
happy  climax  to  this  gorgeous  show  and 
flutter. 


264        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"We  could  scarcely  credit  that  a  driving 
storm  was  raging  without,  'in  such  a  scene 
as  this,"  remarked  a  gentleman,  one  of  the 
late  arrivals.  He  glanced  about  him  at 
the  almost  tropical,  midsummer  prospect. 

His  companion  raised  a  lorgnette  in  her 
jeweled  hand,  glancing  from  object  to 
object;  "Ah,  how  very  exquisite  it  all  is!" 
She  sighed  with  true,  fashionable  pathos. 
"They  tell  me  that  the  bride's  father  is  very 
rich."  Her  glance  at  the  gentleman  was 
a  question. 

"Yes;  Henry  Crosby  is  worth  his  millions." 
He  answered  indifferently. 

"He  has  made  a  great  success  of  his  mining 
business,  I  believe."  This  again  with  the 
interrogative  glance. 

"Yes;  the  'Mother  Lode' — that's  his  com 
pany — manages  to  pay  low  wages;  and  then 
Mr.  Crosby  and  his  friends  have  a  great 
influence  with  Uncle  Sam,"  exclaimed  he. 

"I  do  not  exactly  understand  how  that 
can  bring  riches,  Mr.  Chalmers?"  She  still 
questioned. 

"Why,  the  corporations,  like  the  coal 
mining  "syndicate  and  some  others,  control 
legislation  in  their  own  favor;  and  besides, 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        265 

they  secure  valuable  contracts  for  the  supply 
of  the  Government.  There  are  many  ways 
now-a-days  for  the  rich  to  become  richer — 
and  the  poor  poorer."  He  was  interrupted 
by  a  burst  of  music, — the  wedding  march 
from  "Lohengrin." 

"There!"  exclaimed  the  lady.  "It  is  the 
bride  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  her  father! 
Isn't  she  beautiful!"  A  murmur  of  pleasant 
surprise  and  admiration  came  instinctively 
from  the  assembled  guests. 

And  now  in  the  prevailing  custom  of 
society,  Mr.  Henry  Crosby,  coal  magnate,  and 
millionaire,  went  through  the  imposing  cere 
mony  of  giving  his  daughter  away,  to  be  the 
wife  of  a  rising  man  of  fortune.  Trie  pretty 
and  impressive  rites  of  the  Episcopal  marriage 
service  concluded,  and  congratulations  and 
happy  well-wishing  followed. 

At   this   triumphant   moment   in   the   lives 

*The  instances  in  support  of  this  statement  are  very  numerous, 
but  we  give  only  one — specially  applicable  in  this  connection, 


viz.: 


£.  . 

The  duty  on  coal  was  lowered  30c  per  ton  in  1893;  this  seems 
to  have  been  largely  the  work  of  a  Nova  Scotia  coal-mining  syn 
dicate  and  was  done  almost  solely  in  their  interest.  The  coal 
taken  from  mines  in  Nova  Scotia  was  dug  by  foreign  labor  and 
thrown  upon  the  market  of  the  United  States,  much  to  the  detri 
ment  of  vested  interests  of  both  capital  and  labor  in  the  latter 
country.  The  states  of  Pennsylvania,  West  Virginia,  Ohio, 
Michigan,  Illinois,  Missouri,  and  others  have  vast  coal  fields, — 
and  in  the  mines  are  hundreds  of  thousands  of  poor,  half-fed 
miners  who  receive  only  a  few  cents  a  day  in  wages. — The  Author. 


266        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

of  this  rich  man's  family,  a  liveried  servant 
approaches  the  happy  father  and,  with 
his  usjifal  bow,  extends  a  salver  on  which 
rests  a  telegram.  He  retires  and  Mr.  Crosby 
holds  the  message  a  moment,  hesitating. 

"Open  it,  Henry!  It  is  no  doubt  a  mes 
sage  of  congratulations.  How  opportunely 
received!"  observed  the  wife  of  the  magnate. 

Without  further  delay  he  tore  open  the 
envelope  and  read. — 

"My  God!" — Reeling,  he  grasped  the  arm 
of  his  new-made  son-in-law  for  support. 
The  telegram,  clutched  tightly  in  his  clenched 
hand,  revealed  only  the  signature,  and  Mrs. 
Crosby  read  the  name  of  Ralph  Sumner. 

Consternation  reigned  throughout  the 
crowded  salons  for  a  brief  time,  during  which 
the  aged  host  and  his  amiable  wife  sought 
retirement  in  another  part  of  the  house. 
Explanations  were  vainly  sought,  but  the 
contents  of  the  telegram  were  for  the  time 
securely  locked  in  the  breast  of  the  recipient. 
But  after  only  this  brief  spell,  the  gaiety  was 
resumed  and  feasting  and  dancing  continued 
until  a  late  hour.  Fashionable  Philadel 
phia,  and  many  invited  guests  from  abroad 
went  through  with  the  fascinating,  entranc- 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        267 

ing  waltz  and  brilliant  cotillion,  after  the 
recognized  custom  for  such  occasions. 

The  snow  that  put  such  uncomfortable 
obstacles  in  the  way  of  society  in  the  Pennsyl 
vania  metropolis  fell  with  even  greater  sever 
ity  over  the  wretched  huts  of  the  Carbon 
Vale  miners,  and  brought  chill  into  the 
hearts  and  around  the  firesides  of  the  poor,  sick, 
and  anxious  toilers. 

Oh,  God!  Why  this  difference  in  the  con 
ditions  of  Thy  creatures?  Is  it  the  lack  of  Thy 
love?  Dost  thou  hide  Thy  face  from  these 
because  of  Thine  anger?  Does  Satan  pre 
vail  and  sin  abound  here,  and  Jehovah  and 
righteousness  reign  among  them  whom  for 
tune  favors?  Nay,  it  is  not  true;  it  can 
not  be  true  that  our  God  is  no  longer  a  Being 
of  compassion!  "Man's  inhumanity  to  man" 
makes  the  great  disparity  of  condition  and 
casts  these  awful  burdens  upon  the  unde 
serving  poor. 

It  was  with  some  such  thoughts  as  these 
that  Herbert  Acton,  following  his  resolve 
to  see  Clarissa  Watson,  went  forth  in  the 
blinding  snow  to  call  at  her  home. 

Home!  Could  anyone  imagine  that  such 
a  place  should  bear  so  dear  a  title?  The 


268        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

young  man's  mind  went  back  to  his  own 
boyhood  days,  and  in  the  pleasant  vista 
thus  opened  to  his  active  memory,  he  beheld 
a  far  away  home,  where  the  beloved  faces 
of  parents  and  friends  had  oft  cheered  his 
exultant  boyish  life  and  warmed  his  am 
bition  for  a  career  of  usefulness.  That  was 
home!  But  the  poor,  squalid  abode  of  this 
new-found  joy  of  his  heart!  There  was 
naught  to  suggest  either  comfort  or  glad 
ness;  there  were  none  to  love  and  cheer 
her;  no  tender  lessons  for  her  guidance; — she 
was  its  only  sunshine!  How  his  heart  went 
out  toward  her!  How  this  very  thought 
quickened  his  foot-steps  and  made  him 
unmindful  of  the  heavy  path  and  baffling 
storm! 

He  painted  in  fancy  a  picture  too  bright  for 
description,  and  in  it  he  put  Clarissa  Wat 
son's  face, — bright,  smiling  and  happy.  Sur 
rounded  by  only  such  simple  luxuries  as  recom 
mended  themselves  to  a  mind  trained  in  a  school 
of  self-denial,  through  which  he  was  passing; 
her  presence  reigned  queen  of  a  household 
all  his  own; — his  to  provide  and  cheer;  to 
rear  in  honor;  and  to  protect  in  loving  duty. 

In   setting   forth   he   had   thrown  over  his 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        269 

shoulders  the  long  cape  of  his  mackintosh, 
and,  as  the  storm  beat  and  whistled  about 
him,  had  drawn  his  hat  well  over  his  eyes 
to  shield  them.  This  and  the  gathering 
gloom  prevented  his  seeing  a  person  ap 
proaching  to  join  his  path;  nor  did  he  catch 
the  sound  of  a  sharp  call  that  was  made  to 
him,  to  stop.  Therefore  when  a  rough  hand 
was  laid  quite  unceremoniously  upon  his 
arm,  he  was  greatly  startled. 

"Halt,  I  say!"  were  the  words  that  rang 
in  his  ear. 

Dr.  Acton  stopped;  a  feeling  of  fear  for 
the  moment  unsettled  his  usual  mental 
equipoise.  "What  is  it,  sir?"  trying  to 
recover  his  composure. 

"Ah,  this  is — ?"  The  man  waited  for 
him  to  supply  the  name. 

"I  am  Dr.  Acton,  sir,"  he  replied  in  some 
surprise;  then,  supposing  that  the  fellow 
might  be  in  search  of  him  for  some  of  the 
suffering  sick,  he  quickly  enquired,  "Are 
you  seeking  me?" 

"No, — not  exactly;  anyone  would  do,  who 
can  direct  me  to  the  house  of  Mark  Waring. 
Can  you  tell  me,  Doctor?"  explained  the 
stranger. 


270        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"Ye's*;  directly  yonder;  you  can  see  it 
almost  hidden  by  the  falling  snow;  take  this 
road."  He  pointed  to  the  distant  cottage. 

The  man  thanked  him  and  took  the  diverg 
ing  path,  leaving  his  guide  in  deep  conjecture 
of  what  could  be  wanted  with  his  crippled 
friend. 

Now  he  was  at  the  door.  How  his  heart 
beat!  He  knocked  and  waited  for  the  brief 
time  it  took  the  footsteps,  plainly  heard  on 
the  bare,wood  floor, — her  footsteps!  he  knew 
the  light,  girlish  tread. — to  reach  and  open 
it  for  him. 

"Oh, — you,  Dr.  Acton!  Won't  you  come 
in?"  He  waited  no  further  invitation.  He 
knocked  the  clods  of  ice  from  his  feet  and, 
casting  the  cape  from  his  shoulders,  shook 
off  the  white,  clinging  snow  and  stepped 
within. 

"I  am  glad  to  find  you  at  home,  Clarissa — 
Miss  Watson."  He  thought  best  to  avoid 
the  familiar  use  of  her  name,  and  yet  the 
word  "Watson."  almost  choked  him; — he 
could  not  learn  to  like  the  name  Worry  had 
bestowed. 

"How  very  kind  of  you  to  call!  Ah,  this 
wretched,  blinding  stbrm!  This  is  a  bleak 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        271 

outlook  for  Christmas,  Dr.  Acton."  Her 
mind  flew  away  to  the  poverty-pinched 
people  of  the  settlement.  His  heart  beat 
cordial  sympathy. 

"Yes;  it  may  be  so;  the  weather  is  rather 
threatening."  He  must  say  something  more 
cheering.  "But  my  dear — Miss  Watson,  you 
will  be  pleased  to  hear,  that  the  health  of 
the  community  is  rapidly  improving;  that 
will  help  to  make  Christmas  more  cheerful 
for  many  a  poor  family." 

"That  is  truly  a  bit  of  good  news,  sir." 
He  was  pleased  to  see  her  face  wear  its  happy 
look. 

"This  improvement  permit's  me  to  call 
for  a  short  time  today,  Clarissa."  He  gave 
her  a  meaning  look. 

"How  very  good  to  think  of  me."  She 
dropped  her  eyes;  she  felt  the  flush  of  pleasure 
that  so  kind  a  compliment  brought. 

"Do  you  think  you  should  always  like 
to  live  here,  among  the  miners,  Clarissa?" 
Her  visitor  betrayed  great  tenderness  for 
such  a  question,  she  thought.  He  was 
thinking  of  the  bright  picture,  so  rudely 
dispelled  by  the  stranger  on  his  path. 

"I  have  never  been  able  to  hope  for  any 


272        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

different  place — Mr.  Acton; — except — well,  ex 
cept  when  father  has  told  me  of  where  we 
used  to  Jive, — but  that  was  before  I  can  re 
member."  Her  face  wore  a  far-away  look, 
so  unlike  her  usual  bright,  happy  expression. 
She  had  likewise  thought,  except  that  your 
kind  words  have  filled  my  heart  with  hope; 
but  she  would  not  say  that! 

"I  know  that  you  must  at  times  get  tired 
of  the  scenes  of  suffering  and  wretchedness 
about  you,  Clarissa."  He  spoke  with  deep 
est  tenderness  now.  "I  have  been  thinking, 
that  perhaps  you  would  like  to  get  away 
from  them, — if — if  I  could  find  other  employ 
ment  for — for — Mr.  Watson."  He  found  it 
awkward  to  say  just  what  he  wanted. 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  would  try  to 
help  my  poor,  dear  father,  Dr.  Acton?" 
A  look  of  deep  gratitude  chased  every  line 
of  sorrow  from  the  pretty  face.  The  young 
man  felt  he  was  succeeding  better. 

"Yes;  but  if  there  were  conditions,  Miss 
Watson?"  He  said,  Miss  Watson,  with  in 
tended  formality;  but  a  smile  played  about 
his  lips.  "What  then,  Clarissa?" 

"You  would  make  the  condition  that — that 
father  should  give  up — give  up — ?  She  could 


not  say  the  hateful  word  drink,  but  her 
caller  quickly  supplied  another,  better  one. 

"His  daughter,  Clarissa!"  He  was  now 
on  the  highroad  to  success;  but  he  anxiously 
looked  to  catch  an  answer  in  her  face. 

Her  face  was  bathed  in  blushes;  she 
felt  confused;  she  dare  not  speak;  she  must 
not  encourage  him,  even  by  giving  his  speech 
notice.  Had  his  words  pained  her?  He 
felt  baffled  now. 

"Pardon  my  approach  to  this  matter, 
Clarissa,  in  such  an  awkward  manner!  But 
what  I  wish  to  say  to  you  is  difficult, 
only  because  I  speak  from  the  depths  of 
tenderness.  Let  me  ask  you  now  to  be  the 
brave,  noble  woman,  I  know  you  to  be,  and 
hear  what  I  have  to  say."  He  waited  for 
the  permission.  She  gave  him  a  confused 
questioning  glance.  "Once  I  told  you,  my 
dear  Clarissa,  that  I  love  you;  but  then 
you  were  weak  and  suffering;  then  your 
body  was  racked  by  pain,  and  your  heart 
and  mind  disturbed  by  fears.  Now  you  are 
well  and  strong  again,  Clarissa,  and  I  have 
sought  that  'some  other  time'."  He  searched 
her  face  to  see  if  she  too  recalled  the  words 
she  had  spoken. 


274        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"I  will  hear  you,  Doctor — Mr.  Acton."  All 
her  resolution  and  calmness  of  manner  re 
turned.  "Yes,  for  your  sake,  my  friend,  I  will 
be  brave."  She  smiled  like  her  own  sweet  self. 

"Ah,  and  your  bravery  almost  makes 
a  coward  of  me!  But,  Clarissa,  hear  me. — I 
love  you! — There,  that  is  plain,  and  it  is  what 
I  came  here  to  tell  you."  She  was  looking 
at  hands  folded  in  her  lap,  but  she  glanced 
up  at  him,  now  that  he  hesitated.  He  felt 
that  he  must  go  on. 

"Now,  Clarissa,  let  me  ask,  if  you  can 
be  assured  of  my  love;  if  you  can  trust  me 
and  give  your  life  into  my  keeping;  will  you, 
dear  one,  tell  me  that  my  love  is  returned?" 
He  pleaded  now,  standing  by  her  chair  and 
looking  down  at  the  confused  trembling 
girl;  his  hand  was  extended  to  her  as  if  to 
say,  I  am  all  unworthy  of  you,  but  do  not 
reject  my  suit. 

She  looked  up  full  and  fearlessly  into  his 
clear,  truthful  eyes.  "Suppose,  Doctor — Ac 
ton — suppose,  that  all  you  say  is  true;  how, 
oh  how  can  I  answer  you?"  She  did  not 
turn  her  gaze,  and  her  pretty,  expressive, 
face  wore  the  same  look  of  tenderness  and 
pity  he  had  seen  once  before. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        275 

"You  do  not  doubt  my  sincerity,  Clarissa?" 
His  voice  trembled  with  emotion. 

"No,  oh  no!  I  could  not  doubt  you, 
my  good — dear  friend!  It  rs  not  that;  I 
only  doubt  myself."  She  covered  her  face 
to  hide  her  deep  agitation. 

He  took  her  hand.  He  would  show  that 
naught  of  what  she  might  misjudge  un 
worthy  in  her  life,  her  station  or  herself 
had  existence  in  his  mihd.  "Clarissa,  do 
you  love  me?  Answer  me  that,  dear." 
He  spoke  in  husky  tones;  he  could  not  be 
sure;  he  stood  like  one  awaiting  life,  or  con 
demnation  at  the  judgment  bar. 

She  gave  him  her  hand  freely  now;  he 
felt  a  strange  relief.  She  spoke:  "Herbert 
Acton," — he  started  up  thus  to  hear  her 
lips  pronounce  his  name — "I  call  you  Herbert 
in  my  thoughts,  for  it  seems  so  much  better, — 
better  than  any  other  name  for  one  so  noble 
so  good."  He  was  eager  now  to  fold  her 
in  his  arms;  would  she  come?  No,  she  sat 
as  before, — firm,  brave  and  lovely  in  her 
enforced  composure.  "Let  me  say,"  she 
entreated,  seeing  that  he  was  eager  for 
her  reply,  "Let  me  say  that  all  you  have 
told  me  of  your  love — at  that  other  time, 


276        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

and  since, — for  I  have  not  been  blind  to 
your  outward  expressions,  nor  deaf  to  your 
unspoken  thoughts, — and  what  you  say  now, — 
your  plain,  manly  declaration  sounds  like 
naught  but  the  very  truth."  She  was  even 
calmer  now,  and  he  could  not  understand 
whither  her  words  were  tending. 

"Clarissa,  then  tell  me; — you  believe  all 
T  say;  you  understand  what  I  offer  you: 
Will  you  not  answer  me?  Do  you  love  me?" 
He  had  waited  so  long.  Was  he  still  to  be 
denied  that  answer.  How  impatient  is  love! 

"Do  not  be  impatient!  Let  me  say  first, 
what  I  think  should  best  be  known  to  you — 
and  to  me,  for  I  have  not  been  prepared  for 
this  trial; — although  I  have,  ever  since 
that  first  happy  moment  in  my  life,  been 
trying  to  prepare  myself." — "You  must  rec 
ollect,  Herbert  Acton,  that  you  are  a  noble 
man,  of  noble  parents,  with  a  great  life-work 
and  much  usefulness  before  you.  I  am 
a  poor  miner's  child,  untaught  of  the  great 
world,  unfit  for  your  social  position,  and  un 
prepared  in  every  way  to  join  my  life  to 
yours.  You  come  to  me,  after  mature  thought 
I  feel  assured,  and  after  seeing  me  in  my  humble 
life;  you  tell  me  of  your  love;  you  ask  to  take 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        277 

me  from  that  life — to  become — "  She  hesitated. 

"My    wife,    darling!     Say    it!"    he    cried. 

"Yes;  I  will  say  that,  for  I  trust  your  man 
hood  and  nobility: — You  ask  me  to  become 
your  wife.  Herbert,  have  you  thought  of 
the  sacrifice  you  are  offering  with  your  love?" 
He  would  interrupt  her,  but  she  withdrew 
her  hand,  and  motioned  him  to  silence. 
"You  think  only  of  lifting  me  up, — just  as 
you  would  now  when  you  held  my  hand, — 
and  oh,  how  much  that  could  mean  to  me! 
But  my  dear,  good  friend,  do  you  not  see 
how  I  might  drag  you  down?"  She  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands,  and  the  tears  she 
could  no  longer  repress  flowed  freely. 

"Clarissa,  do  not  say  these  unkind  things; 
they  are  unjust — undeserved  self-accusations. 
Do  not  you  know,  dear,  that  when  I  offer 
you  my  love  and  ask  you  to  become  my  wife, 
I  offer  my  life,  my  profession,  my  ambitions, 
my  future  happiness;  the  gift  is  yours,  and 
I  lay  it  at  your  feet.  Do  not  think,  that  any 
seeming  disparity  of  birth,  or  position,  or 
opportunity  have  not  all  been  set  at  naught 
by  me  when  I  bring  my  heart  to  you."  His 
voice  betrayed  both  emotion  and  earnestness. 

She   raised   her   hand    to   him;   he   took   it 


278        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

firmly  but  tenderly.  "Herbert,  you  are  too 
good  and  noble — too  magnanimous!  I  must 
not  hear  you  pleading  thus.  I  shall  not 
deceive  you;  I  love — " 

A  rumble  as  if  the  heavens  and  earth  had 
come  together!  The  little  hut,  where  they 
stood,  rocked  and  quivered  like  a  leaf  in 
a  storm.  A  loud  report  reverberated  from 
hill  to  hill  These  two  children  of  a  strange 
destiny  stood  clasping  each  the  other's  hand 
and  looked  in  questioning  terror  into  each 
other's  faces. 

"My  God!  The  mine!  the  mine!  Her 
bert, — Dr.  Acton,  go!  Oh,  my  poor  father!" 
Clarissa  turned  pointing  to  the  door  which 
the  quaking  earth  had  thrown  open. 

He  still  held  her  trembling  hand  and 
looked  into  her  face,  stern  and  white. 

"Yes,  it  must  be!  The  mine  has  blown 
up!  I  will  go,  Clarissa."  He  still  held 
the  dear  hand;  he  could  not  let  it  go  while 
it  trembled  so.  "There,  be  calm,  dear." — 
"Goodbye!"  and  he  pressed  his  lips  to  hers 
white  and  quivering. 

"And  I  will  go  too,  Herbert!"  with  a  re 
turn  of  resolution.  She  gave  no  heed  to  his 
endearing  caresses. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        279 

"Where?  To  the  mine?  No,  Clarissa! 
There  will  be  too  many  horrors  for  you  to 
look  upon.  No,  I  cannot  permit  that!" 
He  sought  to  restrain  her  impetuosity. 

"Dr.  Acton — No,  I  will  call  you,  Herbert 
always  now! — Herbert,  if  I  am  not  fit  to 
go  with  you  there,  how  can  I  hope  to  merit 
your  love?  As  you  love  me,  let  me  show 
my  love  for  others  now."  She  threw  her 
arms  about  his  neck  and  gave  one  moment 
of  sweet  embrace.  "There!  I  may  go?" 

He  did  not  try  to  forbid  her  now,  but  tak 
ing  the  mackintosh,  he  wrapped  her  pretty 
form  in  it,  and  together  they  hastened  to 
the  scenes  of  horror  that  awaited  them. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

WHERE  HELL  REIGNS 

"And  many  a  stiffled  groan: — 
"With  speed  their  upward  way  they  take 
"(Such  speed  as  fear  and  age  can  make) 
"And  crossed  themselves  for  terror's  sake." 

— Scott's  Marmion. 

The  streets  of  the  little  mining  settle 
ment  were  filled  with  crowds  of  flying  feet, 
while  shoults  and  cries  rent  the  air.  Men, 
women,  and  children  with  one  accord  ran 
toward  the  not  to  be  mistaken  scene  of  the 
terrible  disaster.  The  bleak,  gathering  night 
shut  out  the  looks  of  mental  suffering 
and  horror  written  upon  those  pinched  and 
woe-weary  faces.  The  storm  beat  with  merci 
less  fury  and  spread  its  deep,  heavy  burden 
of  ice  over  all.  Terror  seized  the  hurrying 
multitude  and  drove  them  panic-stricken 
to  the  mouth  of  the  shaft. 

Having  to  pass  by  his  office  which  lay 
on  the  road  to  the  works,  Dr.  Acton  equipped 
280 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        281 

himself  with  the  few  restoratives  that  might 
be  needed,  and  soon  rejoined  Clarissa  Watson 
who,  at  his  suggestion  awaited  him  in  the 
lee  of  the  building. 

"Now  I  may  as  well  instruct  you,  Clarissa," 
as  they  resumed  their  difficult,  but  rapid, 
walk. 

"Yes,  Herbert,  tell  me  what  is  best  to  do; 
you  must  lead,  I  will  follow,  dear."  She 
spoke  so  tenderly,  so  sorrowfully. 

He  put  his  strong  manly  arm  about  her — to 
shield  her  if  possible  from  the  whirling  gusts 
of  wind  and  to  assist  her  hurrying  steps. 

"The  best  thing  for  any  who  may  have 
been  caught  below  is  rescue  from  the  fatal 
'after  damp'  that  is  sure  to  follow  the  explosion. 
Air  and  quickeried  respiration  are  the  best 
restoratives  we  can  apply.  But  here  are 
brandy  and  ammonia — the  brandy  you  must 
apply  to  the  lips  of  those  who  are  injured, 
the  other  to  the  nostrils  of  those  who  are 
suffocating  from  noxious  gases."  He  looked 
into  her  face  and  there  read  that  her  quick 
intelligence  enabled  her  to  grasp  the  purport 
of  his  words. 

"Be  brave  now,  darling,  and  do  not  for 
my  sake, — nay,  and  for  the  sake  of  those 


282        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

wlio  may  be  caught  in  this  awful  trap, — do 
not  needlessly  expose  yourself  to  danger." 
Tenderness  and  anxiety  together  thrilled 
his  voice. 

"I  shall  be  brave;  and  I  shall  be  careful. 
You  will  find  me  ever  by  your  side,  Herbert," 
said  Clarissa,  in  bold,  reassuring  tones. 

"Now  we  come  near.  What  crowds  are 
gathering!"  instinctively  he  held  her  closer, 
if  possible  to  protect  her  and  keep  her  by 
his  side.  They  threaded  their  difficult  way 
through  the  surging  multitude. 

The  shouts  and  cries  that  had  been  heard 
a  few  minutes  before  had  now  given  place  to 
a  low,  moaning  wail,  as  of  many  voices  chant 
ing  a  requiem  for  the  departed  hopes  and 
cheerless  death  that  had  sepulcher  in  the 
depths  below.  Above  the  murmur  of  the 
gathering  multitude  was  heard  the  voice  of 
the  Superintendent,  firm  but  pathetically 
tremulous,  counselling  and  directing. 

The  physician,  leading  his  gentle  com 
panion  by  the  arm,  pressed  his  way  close  to 
the  manager,  and  ventured  to  speak  a  few 
words  quietly  into  his  ear. 

"Oh,  Doctor,  this  is  terrible! — Aye,  what 
can  you  do?  Can  you  go  below?  Will 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        283 

you  dare  to  go  down  there?"  He  was  dis 
traught  with  fears  and  indecision. 

"Mr.  Sumner,  I  am  ready  to  go;  in  fact, 
there  is  my  place — the  only  place.  Make 
ready;  we  will  go  at  once."  He  lead  Clarissa 
to  the  entrance  of  the  cage  that  had  just 
been  opened  to  receive  a  relief  detailed  for 
the  descent. 

"And  who  is  this  goes  with  you,  Doctor?" 
The  Superintendent  did  not  recognize  the 
girl  in  her  strange  mantle. 

"Clarissa — Miss  Watson,  sir."  briefly  ex 
plained  the  physician. 

"What!  That  must  not  be,  Doctor.  No, 
Miss  Watson;  pray  do  nothing  of  the  kind; 
you  will  find  too  much  for  a  woman's  weak 
nerves;  and  it  is  a  very  hazardous  undertaking." 

"I  have  weighed  everything,  Mr.  Sumner. 
I  must  go  to  the  relief,  and  will  follow  and 
obey  Dr.  Acton."  The  terror  stricken  men 
about  them  felt  the  irresistible  inspiration 
her  determined  manner  gave,  and  a  soft 
murmur  of  applause  arose  to  their  lips.  Her 
positive  purpose  and  strong  resolution  dis 
armed  the  Superintendent. 

"Yes,  permit  Miss  Watson  to  go,  sir;  I 
will  see  that  no  harm  overtakes  her."  And 


284        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

suiting  the  action  to  the  words,  the  resolute 
physician  and  his  gentle  angel  of  mercy  en 
tered  the  cage. 

Panic  reigned  in  the  pits  below;  a  few 
had  rushed  to  the  bottom  of  the  shaft  to 
meet  the  descending  load,  while  lying  all 
about,  with  torn  limbs  and  blackened  faces,  lay 
the  limp  forms  of  those  whom  rude  but  com 
passionate  hands  had  already  rescued  from 
the  almost  certain  death  from  "choke  damp" 
that  lurked  in  the  recesses  of  the  mine. 

His  arrival  upon  these  scenes  was  a  sig 
nal  for  restoring  order  out  of  panic,  of  which 
Dr.  Acton  momentarily  took  advantage. 
To  the  bosses  and  Inspector  he  gave  peremp 
tory  orders  to  give  immediate  attention 
to  the  ventilation  and  air  supply;  as  many 
as  possible  of  the  injured  he  hurried  into 
the  cage,  and  directed  those  of  the  relief 
to  take  the  places  of  the  wearied  and  nearly 
exhausted  survivors, — those  who  had  been 
engaged  in  the  work  of  rescue.  The  voice 
of  the  young  man  rang  out  clear  and  impres 
sive  through  the  long,  low  chambers  of  the 
mines,  and  instinctively  a  faint,  but  hearty 
cheer  greeted  the  close  of  his  first  rational 
commands.  Ready  hands  and  willing  feet 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        285 

answered   his   call,   like   well-trained   soldiers. 

Clarissa,  who  at  once  had  turned  her  at 
tention  to  the  injured  and  suffering,  was 
already  kneeling  by  the  prostrate  forms, 
administering  the  restoratives  she  had  brought. 
When  Herbert  Acton  had  finished  his  first 
directions,  and  the  applause  had  died  away 
he  turned  in  search  of  his  gentle  assistant 
and  met  the  upturned  gaze  of  mingled  ad 
miration  and  approval.  No  other  encourage 
ment  was  needed  to  complete  his  resolution; 
he  caught  the  infection  of  organized  effort 
and  courage  his  own  ringing  words  had  called 
into  being.  Now  followed  a  time  of  busy 
effort  for  all. 

As  form  after  form  was  brought  into  the 
lighted  portion  near  the  shaft,  from  the  dark 
recesses  of  the  dismal  caverns  beyond,  the 
fresh  and  ever-increasing  horror  of  the  ac 
cident  grew  upon  those  who  administered 
relief  to  their  fellow  creatures.  The  life 
less  body  of  Jack  Farnam  was  among  the 
first  of  the  familiar  ones  brought  to  the  gaze 
of  Dr.  Acton  and  Clarissa.  For  a  moment 
they  exchanged  looks,  and  he  murmured 
"Poor  Jack!  It's  all  over  with  you,  now," 
withdrawing  his  hand  from  the  quiet  pulse. 


286        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"Oh,  my  poor  father!  Do  you  think 
they  will  find  him  thus,  Herbert?"  She  clung 
to  her  lover's  arm  with  her  trembling  hands 
while  her  eager,  pallid  face  told  of  the  anguish 
of  fear  that  stirred  her. 

"Let  us  hope  not,  darling!  But  if — if 
you  have  to  meet  such  loss,  my  love  must 
have  a  double  value,  then."  He  stroked 
her  cold,  clinging  hands.  "There,  there, 
Clarissa,  we  must  command  our  feelings; 
here  they  are  bringing  another."  He  spoke 
soothingly  and  thought  thus  to  call  her  atten 
tion  to  the  duty  of  the  moment,  would  dis 
tract  her  mind  from  her  own  fears. 

They  turned  to  view  the  new  burden  of 
the  men  who  carried  a  ghastly  form  to  light. 

"Mark— Mark  Waring!"  exclaimed  the 
doctor.  "How  came  you  here?"  His  mind 
ran  back  to  the  rude  interruption  of  his 
walk  that  afternoon; — it  appeared  an  age, 
yet  it  somehow  explained  the  fact  of  Mark's 
presence  in  the  mine.  He  applied  the  arts 
of  his  profession.  "Yes,  he  lives! — Give  him 
the  brandy,  Clarissa. — But  oh,  what  a  wreck! 
God  pity  him!" 

The  cage  had  descended,  and  now  another 
cargo  of  mutilated  and  bleeding  bodies  was 


tenderly  deposited  on  its  floors.  Clarissa 
was  chafing  the  cold  brow  and  hands  of 
Mark  Waring. 

Suddenly  he  opened  his  eyes:  "Luke! 
Luke!  For  God's  sake,  save  Luke!" 

"Where?"  cried  'a  dozen  voices  and  the  feet 
of  a  determined  band  stood  ready  to  ex 
ecute  his  wishes. 

"There,  at  the  'eye'  of  the  new  pit. — And 
Worry  lies  there  too."  He  lifted  his  one  weak 
arm  in  an  effort  to  point,  but  it  fell  helpless 
by  his  side  The  men  sprang  forward  to 
do  his  bidding. 

"They  will  bring  them;  never  fear,  Mark; 
there  be  quiet  now,"  said  Clarissa,  soothingly  to 
quiet  his  anxious  fears,  forgetting  in  her  self- 
denying  efforts  the  pain  that  his  words  had 
brought  to  her. 

Soon  those  who  had  gone  to  our  hero's 
relief  returned,  bearing  the  two  men  whom 
Mark  had  named;  both  had  received  severe, 
if  not  fatal  injuries,  and  a  quick  glance  showed 
Dr.  Acton  that  immediate  surgical  skill 
was  needed  to  stop  the  flow  of  blood,  which 
threatened  to  exhaust  the  life  of  both  suf 
ferers.  The  daughter  of  Worry  Watson  was 
calm  and  resolute,  when  the  bleeding,  mangled, 


288        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

but  living  body  of  her  father  was  borne 
into  her  presence.  The  previous  scenes  of 
heart-rending  horror  had,  in  a  measure, 
prepared  her  mind  for  this  trial;  and  the 
fact  that  a  seeming  abundance  of  life  still 
remained  in  his  otherwise  shattered  body, 
brought  some  releif  to  her  troubled  heart. 

"We  must  go  aloft  now,  my — my  good 
angel,"  observed  the  physician.  "We  can 
now  leave  the  work  here  to  others;  they 
must  be  taken  where  their  injuries  can  be 
treated."  He  pointed  to  the  three  men — Luke, 
Mark  and  the  girl's  father.  Qucikly  directing 
these  to  be  placed  in  the  now  descending  cage, 
he  turned  to  speak  to  Inspector  Walsh  who 
at  that  moment  returned.  The  latter  re 
ported  that  the  ventilating  apparatus  had 
been  wrecked  in  the  explosion.  Signalling, 
therefore,  to  hold  the  cage  for  a  few  minutes, 
Dr.  Acton  took  advantage  of  the  time  to 
instruct  Walsh. 

"That  being  the  case,"  referring  to  the 
destruction  of  the  ventilating  fans, — "y°u 
must  bring  everybody  you  can  find — do  not 
stop  to  see  whether  alive  or  dead — to  the 
bottom  of  the  shaft  here.  Have  these  men 
make  raised  platforms. — Here,  men,  fetch 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        289 

cars  and  boards!  Be  quick!"  His  last  words 
addressed  to  the  men  brought  the  waiting 
response,  "Aye,  aye,  sir!" 

"Now,  Walsh,  I  must  go  aloft;  here 
are  brandy  and  hartshorn — brandy  for  the 
fainting — hartshorn  for  the  suffocating — Do 
you  understand?  Keep  all  those  who  can 
walk  or  work  in  action,  and  all  who  are  in 
jured  on  the  platforms; — and  God  help  you, 
is  my  prayer!" 

The  signal  for  the  ascent  was  given,  and 
at  the  instant  of  starting  Clarissa  Watson 
sprang  from  the  cage:  "I  will  stay  below, 
Herbert!"  The  words  reached  him,  and 
the  cage  with  the  doctor  and  his  precious 
charge  shot  upward.  She  was  left  at  her 
post  of  duty. 

The  details  of  the  terrible  disaster;  the 
long  record  of  deaths  and  injuries  need  not 
be  repeated  here:  The  reader  will  find 
appended  a  facsimile  copy  of  a  special  des 
patch  from  the  scene  to  one  of  the  metropol 
itan  dailies;  it  was  printed  on  the  second 
succeeding  day  when  the  facts  could  be 
more  fully  ascertained.  „ 

The  horror,  as  there  depicted,  passed  like 
a  shudder  over  the  heart  of  the  nation;  a 


290        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

feeling  that  too  often  touches  us,  but  the 
circumstances  of  which  and  the  cause  are 
too  easily  and  quickly  made  to  give  place 
to  matters  of  more  potent  interest. 

The  very  familiarity  with  death-dealing 
accidents  of  this  character  has  a  benumbing 
effect  upon  our  humane  sensibilities,  and 
by  their  frequency  these  seem  to  stifle  all 
effort  for  the  prevention  of  like  occurrence 
for  the  future.  We  are  wont  to  charge 
such  outrages  upon  the  poor  and  down-trod 
den  to  the  inscrutible  workings  of  an  over 
ruling  providence.  Does  a  Being  of  love 
and  compassion  look  down  upon  the  poor 
and  then  send  His  angel  of  death  to  cut 
off  their  miseries?  If  so,  why  should  His 
quick  and  grateful  messenger  of  mercy  only 
half-kill  his  victims?  Why  should  he  shatter 
limbs,  and  blind  eyes,  or  wreck  the  strength 
of  those  to  whom  death  would  seem  a  bless 
ing?  Nay;  our  God  is  not  responsible!  There, 
there  stand  those  who  should  have  prevented 
this  present  horror  and  who,  like  others  of 
their  kind,  are  surely  filling  the  world  with 
woe!  And  they  cry  at  each  fresh  example  of 
their  inhumanity,  "What  have  I  to  do  with 
these  things?  Am  I  my  brother's  keeper?" 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        291 

Yes,  them  art;  oh  rich  man,  whoever  thou 
be;  thou  art,  ruler,  or  master,  or  body  corporate, 
the  keeper  of  thy  brother's  life  and  soul;  and 
in  that  day  when  the  heavens  shall  be  rolled 
together,  and  the  earth  and  the  sea  shall  give 
up  their  dead,  the  hosts  of  thy  slain  will 
pass  in  fearful  array  before  thee,  and  the 
Judge  of  all  will  say,  "In  as  much  as  ye  did 
it  not  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  my  breth 
ren,  ye  did  it  not  to  Me.  Depart  from  Me, 
ye  workers  of  iniquity!" 

And  Christmas  came!  In  the  houses  of 
the  Christian  world  was  generally  heard  re 
joicing  and  mirth  and  loving  reunion.  But 
in  the  little  village  of  Carbon  Vale,  with  its 
cottages  thatched  with  snow,  its  shivering 
tenants  borne  down  under  a  weight  of  sick 
ness  or  bereavement  or  gaunt  hunger,  the 
Christ  Child's  birthday  was  forgotten!  Out 
of  the  depths  of  their  woe,  they  called  to 
God  for  succor!  But  their  appeal,  coupled 
with  their  condemnation,  should  have  been 
hurled  in  the  faces  of  those  upon  whom 
rested  the  responsibility  for  their  dire  con 
ditions. 

On  this  day  we  see  a  procession  starting 
silently  and  solemnly  from  the  doorway 


292        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

of  a  rude  morgue  built  near  the  place  where 
the  awful  carnage  of  death  had  been  enacted. 
A  long  line  of  meanly-clad  miners,  with 
bowed  heads,  followed  the  bodies  of  more 
than  forty  of  their  friends  and  fellow  bread 
winners  to  the  last  resting  place  of  the  dead. 
They  halted  by  forty  freshly  dug  graves 
that  had  been  hewn  from  the  frozen  hill 
side.  With  bared  heads  and  streaming  eyes, 
and  smothered  sobs,  they  listen  to  the  pastor 
of  the  village  church,  the  Reverend  Arthur 
Laud,  as  he  began,  "I  am  the  resurrection 
and  the  life." 

Aye,  well  may  we  ask,  what  will  be  the 
resurrection,  and  what  new  life  shall  spring 
from  the  icy  tombs  of  this  numerous  company? 
Will  it  be  the  resurrection  of  the  hopes  that 
lie  buried  there;  resurrection  of  the  love 
and  care  and  manly  strength  that  so  long 
rolled  the  ever-revolving  stone  up  the  baf 
fling  steep?  Can  it  be  that  a  new  life  shall 
take  the  place  of  the  old,  that  departed  from 
the  bleeding  corpse  of  the  Mother  Lode  Com 
pany?  Will  a  new  era  dawn  for  the  intricate 
and  inseparable  interests  of  both  vested 
capital  and  hard,  sacrificing  labor?  On  the 
bier  of  a  lifeless  and  unholy  system,  will 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        293 

a  better  organization  and  a  new  constitution 
arise? 

Yes!  And  we  shall  see  it!  If  not  in 
its  lovely  symmetry  and  beauty,  now,  yet 
in  the  dawn  of  a  new  century,  it  shall  lift 
its  beacon  to  light  the  ships  of  commerce 
from  drifting  upon  the  fearful  rocks  of  in 
dustrial  unrest  that  have  so  long  lain  hid 
from  sight. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A  STORY  WITHIN  A  STORY 

"Ah!  who  can  tell  how  many  a  soul  sublime 
"Has  felt  the  influence  of  malignant  star?" 

—  Beattie. 

A  few  days  after  the  sad  rites  that  filled 
up  this  Christmas  day  for  the  inhabitants 
of  Carbon  Vale,  a  touching  scene  was  tak 
ing  place  in  the  wretched  building,  known 
as  a  hospital,  and  where  we  have  met  some 
of  our  principal  characters  before — this  was 
when  the  Italian  Gaudio  lay  there. 

Rude  cots,  which  later  were  made  more 
comfortable  by  loving  hands,  had  been 
hastily  provided  for  the  wounded  from  the 
mine  disaster.  Hither  they  had  brought 
Luke  Darrell,  Worry  Watson,  and  Mark 
Waring,  with  a  number  of  others.  This 
had  been  done  in  order  to  make  it  possible 
for  the  limited  medical  staff  to  give  better 
service  than  would  have  been  possible  had 
these  been  scattered  among  the  various 
homes. 

294 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        295 

On  the  day  of  which  we  write  Dr.  Acton 
was  in  close  attendance,  for  the  symptoms 
in  the  case  of  two,  Worry  and  Mark,  in 
dicated  a  very  critical  condition.  Ralph 
Sumner,  the  business  manager,  and  humane 
gentleman,  was  listening  attentively  to  the 
statement  of  the  latter.  In  a  part  of  the  long 
barracks  some  distance  away,  Clarissa  and 
the  Doctor  bent  over  the  weak  and  mangled 
form  of  Watson. 

"Dr.  Acton,  if  you  please,"  said  an  at- 
tendent,  "Mr.  Sumner  wishes  you  to  come 
to  him."  The  physician  hastened  to  the  cot 
of  his  former  patient,  where  he  found  Mark 
sinking  in  the  last,  painless  throes  of  death. 

"Doctor,"  said  the  man,  regarding  him 
with  an  eager  look,  "I  have  come  at  last 
to  the  end  of  my  days; — and,  Doctor, — you 
have  been  a  good  friend  to  me  and  my  Margery; 
— I  want  to  ask."  His  breath  came  now 
in  short  gasps. 

"Yes,  Mark,  my  good  friend,  ask  me  any 
thing;  I  will  try  to  grant  your  request."  The 
gentle  physician  spoke  reassuringly. 

"Then,  Dr.  Acton, — take  my  child — my 
little  Margery, — and  oh,  find  a  home  for  her, — 
a  home,  better,  please  God  than — I  have — 


296        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

been  able  to  give."  His  voice  died  away 
into  a  hollow  whisper,  and  his  eyes  closed. 

Margery  seized  his  cold,  withered  hand — 
the  only  hand  he  now  had.  "Oh,  father, 
and  must  you  die?  God  have  pity  on  me! 
My  heart  will  be  sc  lonely."  Her  words 
came  in  sobs. 

Herbert  Acton  leaned  over  the  dying 
man.  "Yes,  Mark;  I  will  see  that  your 
child  has  a  good  home, — and  love,  and  gentle 
care."  He  wanted  to  promise  more,  but 
the  spirit  had  winged  its  flight,  and  faith 
ful  Mark  Waring  was  no  more. 

The  doctor  drew  the  girl's  head  to  his 
shoulder  and  comforted  her  best  he  could: 
"There,  Margery!  Your  father's  terrible  suffer 
ing  is  over.  How  much  better,  my  dear! 
Better  than  that  he  should  have  to  live  on 
with  his  sorrowful  losses." 

"But  who  have  I  to  love?"  She  sobbed. 
"Who  will  love  me?" 

"I  will  love  you,  my  child!  And  Clarissa 
shall  love  you,  and  be  a  sister  to  you;  and 
you  will  have  us  both  to  love,  dear." 

But  he  must  leave  her  now;  he  placed  a 
chair  at  the  foot  of  the  couch.  "There, 
Margery,  sit  here  a  short  time,  and  do  not  grieve; 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        297 

I  will  send  Clarissa  to  you,  soon."  He  kissed 
the  tear-stained,  childish  face  and  was  gone. 

As  he  moved  away,  he  encountered  Mr. 
Sumner,  his  head  bent  in  sombre  thought. 
"It  is  all  over,  now?"  he  asked. 

"Yes;  the  brave  fellow  is  gone,"  answered 
Acton. 

"Well  may  you  say,  brave,  Doctor;  for, 
could  you  have  heard  the  story  of  that  mine 
explosion,  you  would  be  unable  to  find  words 
to  describe  his  character."  The  manager 
pressed  his  friend's  arm  in  silence  a  moment. 
"It  was  awful,  Acton!  There  lies  another;" — 
pointing  toward  Luke; — "Darrell  is  the  grand 
est  man  in  the  service  of  the  Company — and 
of  humanity!" 

"May  I  learn  the  details  of  the  disaster? — 
N*ot  now,  but  another  time?"  requested  the 
doctor. 

"Yes;  I  shall  be  pleased  to  tell  you  all  I 
know,  at  my  first  opportunity."  The  two 
parted; — Mr.  Sumner  to  retire  with  the 
State's  Attorney;  Herbert  Acton  to  become 
a  witness  of  another  scene. 

It  was  some  time  later  that  Clarissa  was 
suddenly  called  by  a  sharp  cry  from  the 
lips  of  her  father. 


298        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"Rissy — come!  Quick,  child! — They  are 
dragging  me  away; — there,  drive  'em  back! 
drive  'em  away!" 

"Drive  who  away,  father?  What  do  you 
mean?"  quickly  asked  the  girl. 

"Oh  there — there!"  He  pointed,  then  fell 
back  exhausted.  "They're  gone  away  now. 
I  only  dreamed,  or  is  it  death,  Rissy?  Am 
I  dyin'  gurl!"  He  tried  to  rise,  and  passed 
his  hand  over  his  eyes  to  clear  their  sight. 

Dr.  Acton  moved  to  his  side,  summoned 
by  the  man's  agonizing  cry.  He  heard  the 
last  question,  and  read  the  look  in  the  daugh 
ter's  expressive  face.  Taking  the  man's  hand 
he  quickly  sought  the  signs,  now  too  plainly 
written.  They  told  of  approaching  death. 

"Yes,  my  friend.  My  solemn  duty  bids 
me  tell  you,  you  have  but  a  few  minutes  to 
live."  Turning  to  Clarissa,  he  took  her 
hand:  "Be  brave,  my  darling!  It  will  be 
all  for  the  best."  He  placed  her  hand  in  that 
of  her  dying  parent.  Then  he  drew  quietly 
apart,  to  be  in  reach  if  needed. 

"Rissy,  the  doctor  tells  me,  I'm  dyin'. 
It  must  be  so,  for  he  is  a  good  man,  a  truth 
ful  man, — and  has  been  our  friend  too,  child." 
He  spoke  softly,  with  some  feeling. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        299 

"Yes,    father    dear;    all    that — and    more!" 

"Alore,  girl!  More?  how  could  he  be 
more  than  that?  But  that  is  enough,  I 
say."  He  had  not  lost  his  wonted  dogmatic 
manner  of  speaking.  She  forebore  to  op 
pose  him. 

"Come  nearer,  Rissy;  I  have  something 
to  tell  you,"  tenderly.  "There  do  not  weep; 
you  will  be  glad — when — I'm  gone.  I  have 
been  a  worry  to  you — and  Worry  Watson 
to  my  neighbors; — but  I'm  neither  Worry 
Watson  nor  your  father  child."  He  closed 
his  eyes,  as  if  to  shut  out  the  sight  of  the 
lie  he  long  had  lived. 

Clarissa  stood  in  mute  astonishment,  with 
parted  lips,  and  quivering  limbs.  "Then 
who  am  I,  father? — I  must  call  you  that, 
for  you  have  been  very  kind  to  me — and — and 
what  is  your  name? — your  real  name?" 
Her  mind  wavered  between  a  last  duty 
to  him  and  a  greater  duty  to  herself — and 
Herbert  Acton.  She  beckoned  the  doctor 
to  come  to  her. 

"Father,  now  tell  me,  who  am  I?  and 
what  is  your  name  if  not  Worry  Watson?" 
She  took  Herbert's  hand  and  bent  her  eager, 
expectant  gaze  on  the  face  of  the  dying  man. 


300        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

Dr.  Acton  evinced  a  puzzled  interest  and 
looked  with  deep  concern  into  the  girl's 
anxious,  sympathetic  face. 

"I'll  tell  ye!" — with  sudden  resolution. 
"Now  that  I  must  die, — the  sin  must  be 
lifted  from  my  soul; — if  confession  can  do 
it."  He  closed  his  eyes,  again,  as  if  to  re 
call  far  distant  thoughts.  Then,  in  broken 
language,  rendered  so  by  faults  of  recollec 
tion  and  failing  strength,  he  told  the  story 
of  his  life. 

He  had  been  the  trusted  servant  of  a 
wealthy  family  of  New  York.  With  a  strange, 
mad  infatuation  he  had  fallen  in  love  with 
the  proud  and  cultured  daughter  of  his 
employer.  But  the  great  disparity  of  po 
sition,  of  education,  of  all  that  build  the 
barriers  between  hearts  in  high  and  low 
station, — prevented  him  ever  telling  his  in 
sane  love;  at  least,  until  after  the  daughter 
was  married  to  a  man  of  great  fortune,  but 
of  dissolute  habits. 

After  a  year  or  two  of  their  married  life — 
Watson  was  now  in  the  young  husband's 
employ — this  life  became  unbearable  to  the 
young  wife,  and  she  found  it  necessary, 
at  times,  to  appeal  to  the  man  of  work  for 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        301 

help,  protection,  and  even  for  sympathy. 
The  fellow  gave  all,  for  he  loved  her. 

A  child  was  born;  a  little  girl,  that  soon 
suffered  the  loss  of  father  and  later  of  mother 
too.  Both  were  laid  to  rest,  and  the  ser 
vant  disappeared.  But  only  for  a  year; 
he  had  learned  to  love  the  little  girl  for  the 
sake  of  her  whom  Heaven  had  decreed — or 
society's  laws  prescribed — should  not  be 
come  his  wife.  True,  the  child  was  none 
of  his,  but  she  was  hers,  and  he  loved  her! 

He  kidnapped  the  two-year  old  babe, 
and  embarked  by  steamer  for  a  foreign  land. 
Then  after  a  year  he  came  back,  thinking 
to  restore  the  child;  but  fear  of  just  pun 
ishment  for  his  crime  prevented.  Hiding 
among  the  dregs  of  society  in  the  great  city 
his  small  means  exhausted,  he  fell,  low, 
lower  continually  in  the  scale  of  humanity, 
and  deeper  in  vice,  pursued  by  the  Nemesis 
of  his  own  crying  sin.  At  last  he  found 
his  way  from  the  dregs  of  New  York  life 
into  the  settlement  at  Carbon  Vale,  where 
our  story  finds  him. 

As  the  girl  grew  in  beauty  and  the  very 
likeness  of  her  mother,  he  loved  her  for  the 
sake  of  that  mother  and  for  her  own  sweet 


302        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

self,  until,  of  late  years,  no  thought  of  ever 
surrendering  her  passed  his  mind.  In  all 
ways  he  had  secured  for  her  the  best  advan 
tages  he  could  out  of  his  scanty  means. 
Schooling,  the  best  the  village  afforded, 
he  gave;  books  of  real  worth  she  chose; 
and  friends  the  choicest  sought  her  com 
panionship;  under  these  influences  she  grew 
into  the  bright,  beautiful,  sympathetic  Clarissa 
with  whom  we  are  so  well  acquainted  and 
of  whom  we  are  so  fond.  His  wretched 
home  and  surroundings  were  due  partly 
to  his  fear  of  detection,  and  partly  to  his 
growing  thirst  for  drink,  that  consumed 
his  substance. 

When  he  concluded  his  story  he  waited 
some  moments,  as  if  the  confession  of  his 
crime  had  brought  relief  he  could  not  give 
sigh  to; — he  was  now  very  weak. 

"And  my  name,  father?  and  your  name? 
You  have  not  told  me  that,"  eagerly  asked 
the  weeping  girl. 

"Aye,  Rissy;  I  allus  called  you,  my  pet, 
my  child,  my  gurl," — tenderly, — "Until  some 
one  asked  me,  'An'  what  is  her  name?  Has 
she  no  name?'  an'  I  told  'em  'Rissy';  an' 
after  that  I  too  called  you,  Rissy — sometimes. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT          303 

You  can  recollect,  gurl,  when  I  told  you 
yer  name  was  Clarissa."  Again  he  breathed 
short  and  quick. 

"But,  Clarissa  what,  father?"  She  would 
call  him  so,  for  she  had  loved  him  dutifully — 
and  it  all  seemed  so  strange  to  her,  now. 

"Clarissa  Chalmers,  child; — you'll  find 
they're  rich, — New  York  bankers, — even  to 
this  day."  He  gasped  again. 

She  turned,  a  questioning  look  upon  her 
troubled  face,  to  Herbert  Acton,  who 
had  kept  his  post  of  duty  through  all  this 
trying  ordeal. 

"I  know  of  them  dear!  You  shall  go 
back  to  them — soon."  A  look  of  pain  and 
disappointed  hope  came  suddenly  over  his 
handsome  face. 

"Your  name,  father?  What  was  your 
real  name?"  anxious  to  know  that  too. 

"My  name  was  Watson  Warton,  but 
I  turned  it  about,  you  see,  and  have  long 
gone  by  just  'Worry  Watson'."  He  waited 
a  few  moments,  and  then  asked,  "Where 
is  Luke? — Luke  Darrell,  the  brave  true  man? 
mayn't  I  see  him — before  I — die?" 

"Yes,  father,  anything,  anything,  ask  it! — 
Doctor,  will  you  not  help  to  bring  Luke  here?  I 


304        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

can  lift  too."  Her  words  aroused  the  silent, 
distraught  listener. 

They  moved  Luke's  cot  close  beside  that  of 
the  dying  man.  "Here  is  Luke,  father; 
here,  take  his  hand,"  and  she  placed  the 
hand  of  the  stalwart  defender  in  her  father's 
cold,  limp  palm. 

The  touch  revived  the  now  fast-failing 
man.  "Luke,"  he  said,  "speak  fer  I  can't 
see  ye,  now. — Tell  me,  ye  fergive  me." 

"Aye,  Worry,  my  dear  old  friend — if  there 
is  anything  to  forgive, — and  I  guess  there  is; — 
I  forgive  you  my  part  and  pray  God  to  par 
don  all."  Luke's  face  was  lighted  with  a 
kind,  forgiving  smile. 

"An'  Luke,  Rissy'll  tell  ye  all,  now. — But 
I  want  ye  to  have  her — if  she  can  care  fer 
a  true,  honest  man  who  is  only  a  poor  miner. 
Ask  her  to  love — ye — Luke — and — good 
bye — it's  so  dark,  Rissy — a  light!  My  God, 
the  mine! — the  mine! — a — ah — ." 

He  fell  back  faint  and  exhausted.  Sud 
denly  though,  he  gasped  again,  and  the  breath 
he  took  in  went  out  from  his  expiring  body 
in  one  terrible,  piercing  shriek,  "The  mine!" 
that  rang  through  the  whole  room.  He 
was  dead. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        305 

Luke  Darrell  and  Herbert  Acton  looked 
in  tender  compassion  upon  the  grief  stricken 
girl.  She,  Clarissa  Chalmers,  gazed  with 
pity  and  dying  love  upon  the  man  who  had 
stolen  her  from  her  home,  and  had  kept 
her  in  ignorance,  but  duty-bound  to  his 
miserable,  sinful  life  so  many  years. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

SOLVING  A  GREAT  MYSTERY 

"I  could  a  tale  unfold,  whose  lightest  word 
"Would  harrow  up  thy  soul;" 

— Shakespeare's    Hamlet. 

A  week  later  Luke  was  out  of  bed,  and  took 
each  day  a  short  walk  aided,  by  crutch  and 
cane.  Although  his  injuries  of  body  were 
severe,  yet  they  were  not  of  that  serious  nature 
which  would  leave  him  permanently  crippled, 
while  through  all  his  suffering,  after  the 
first  few  hours,  his  mind,  had  remained 
clear  and  active. 

The  brave  man  employed  his  thoughts, 
therefore,  as  he  lay  upon  his  bed  of  pain,  held 
down  by  the  stern  hand  of  necessity,  in 
divising  and  contemplating  plans  for  the 
ameliorating  of  the  hard  conditions  of  pov 
erty  and  sorrow  about  him.  Each  little 
opportunity  that  came  in  his  way  for  learn 
ing  the  state  of  affairs  in  the  community, 
was  improved  by  a  ready,  inventive  mind, — a 
306 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        307 

mind  consecrated  to  humanity,  to  right 
and  justice. 

His  mother  and  Clarissa,  and  Margery, — 
Dr.  Acton  and  Ralph  Sumner — all  gave 
him  tender  nursing,  comfort  and  companion 
ship.  He  had  never,  though,  in  all  his  inter 
course  with  these,  alluded  to  the  moment 
of  disaster  in  the  mine.  He  carefully  avoided 
all  approach  to  the  subject;  and,  when  a 
question  tending  to  draw  some  word  of 
explanation  from  him,  or  a  suggestion  to 
tell,  what  he  knew,  was  offered  to  him,  he 
turned  his  head  aside  and  affected  not  to 
hear.  So  his  lips  remained  closed. 

But  he  realized  that  sooner  or  later,  he 
must  speak  out,  and  he  determined  to  re 
serve  the  narration  of  these  important  events 
for  the  ears  of  those  who  alone  should  hear 
them.  On  a  bright  day,  then,  we  see  him 
laboring  slowly  over  the  path  that  led  to 
the  office  of  the  kind-hearted  physician, 
where  by  agreement  he  would  meet  that 
gentleman  and  Mr.  Sumner. 

"Take  this  chair,  Luke.  I  have  already 
prepared  for  your  reception  you  see,"  said 
Herbert  Acton,  after  a  cordial  greeting. 
"There  now,  isn't  that  better?"  after  adjusting 


308        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

the  large  invalid-chair  for  the  crippled    man. 

"Ah,  thank  you,  Doctor.  This  is  the 
cheeriest  place,  I  have  seen  for  some  time. 
How  do  you  find  things  in  your  way,  sir?" 

"I  am  pleased  to  'report  progress',  Luke; 
as  the  dilatory  committees  put  it.  Yes, 
there  are  many  changes  for  the  better; — and 
I  trust  that  some  who  rule  this  sad  world 
have  learned  a  lesson,  bitter  though  it  be." 

"Ah,  here  is  Mr.  Sumner  now,"  he  added. 
Luke's  thoughts  were  far  away,  and  this 
announcement  recalled  him. 

Some  few  words  of  greeting  and  congrat 
ulation  for  the  injured  friend  occupied  a 
few  moments.  The  manager  of  the  Mother 
Lode  was  the  first  to  interrupt  these  com 
mon  places. 

"President  Crosby  died  this  morning," 
he  observed,  and  at  the  quick  exchange  of 
glances  he  added  by  way  of  explanation, 
"He  never  recovered  from  the  great  shock, 
the  news  of  the  explosion  caused  him.  His 
old  trouble  of  the  heart, — organic,  I  believe 
they  called  it, — returned  with  unwonted  sev 
erity,  and  he  passed  away  this  morning." 

"How  far-reaching  that  awful  calamity 
proved  itself,"  observed  Dr.  Acton. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        309 

"Aye,  capital  has  its  share  in  every  dis 
temper  that  affects  its  dependent,  labor. 
Labor's  death  means  capital's  demise,"  calmly, 
philosophized  Luke. 

"It  seemed  that  Heaven's  vengeance  quickly 
followed,  in  this  instance."  Ralph  Sumner 
evinced  a  certain  knowing  look  that  silenced 
his  listeners. 

At  the  suggestion  of  his  friends,  Luke 
now  entered  upon  the  story  of  events  lead 
ing  to  the  trouble  in  the  mine,  on  the  day 
of  the  explosion. 

He  had  left  home  a  little  earlier  than 
usual  that  morning,  and,  taking  his  place 
at  the  shaft  entrance,  waited  for  the  last 
load  of  workmen  that  entered  the  cage. 
Neither  Jack  nor  Worry  were  to  be  seen; 
they  had  evidently  gone  on  the  first  trip 
which  was  made  just  before  his  arrival. 
Nor  did  he  see  the  Italian,  whom  he  hoped 
to  identify  dressed  in  the  strange  garb  pro 
vided  by  the  conspirators. 

On  reaching  the  lower  levels,  he  was  hor 
rified  to  see  many  of  the  laborers  already  start 
ing  for  the  scenes  of  their  toil,  equipped  with 
naked  lights.  He  also  learned  that  these 
were  provided  by  the  pit  boss;  he  took  oc- 


310        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

casion  to  remonstrate  with  him,  but  Dale 
told  him  in  surly  tones  that  his  interference 
was  uncalled  for;  that  he,  Dale,  was  permit 
ting  this  open  violation  of  the  law  by  the 
express  sanction  of  President  Crosby  him 
self;  if  Luke  had  a  grievance  he  had  best 
take  it  to  the  head  of  the  Company. 
An  appeal  to  Inspector  Walsh  met  with  a 
less  brusque  repulse,  but  that  officer  only 
verified  the  statement  of  the  Pit  Boss  in 
regard  to  orders.  Despairing  of  any  re 
dress  the  sturdy  Luke  waited  a  turn  of  affairs, 
with  the  hope  that  no  accidents  would  occur 
in  the  meantime;  for  he  looked  for  an  ally  in 
the  officer  of  the  law,  who,  he  expected, 
would  visit  the  mine  in  search  of  John  Doe — 
the  Italian  of  unknown  name,  wanted  for 
assault. 

The  hours  dragged  heavily  on,  and  it  was 
well  into  the  afternoon  when  a  deputy  sher- 
riff  made  his  appearance.  Together, — for 
Luke  was  at  once  pressed  into  the  service 
of  the  law, — he  and  the  deputy  searched 
the  various  rooms  of  the  mines,  but  with 
no  avail; — the  man  could  nowhere  be  found 
Then,  as  the  most  likely  course  for  discover 
ing  the  fellow,  he  suggested  to  the  officer 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        311 

to    go     aloft    and    bring     Mark    Waring    to 
his   aid. 

"I  see  it  now!"  exclaimed  Dr.  Acton. 

"See  what,  sir?"  queried  the  narrator 
with  a  puzzled  look. 

"Why,  the  reason  for  Mark  being  there. 
I  met  the  deputy  and  directed  him  to  Mark's 
house."  An  expression  of  deep  sadness 
settled  upon  the  doctor's  face.  Luke  resumed. 

"Well,  soon  the  officer  returned  with  Mark, 
and  at  once  the  search  was  begun.  As 
we  entered  the  'eye'  of  the  new  pit — for 
I  somehow  thought  John  Doe  had  been  put 
to  wqrk  there — I  overheard  Worry  saying 
to  Jack  Farnam, — they  stood  just  within 
the  entrance, — 'Stefano  has  started  into  the 
hole.  Let  him  put  his  pick  into  that  wall, 
and  hell  will  be  to  pay.'  The  whole  thing 
flashed  on  me  in  an  instant,  for  the  deputy 
had  told  me  of  the  jail-breaking  and  that 
Stefano  Giochio  was  at  liberty.  I  understood 
their  plan  in  its  true,  diabolical  nature. 
They  had  liberated  Stefano  for  the  purpose 
of  doing  the  job  which  they  knew  was  fraught 
with  great  danger;  they  had  sent  him  with 
an  unprotected  lamp  to  make  a  rent  into  a 
gas  chamber  of  the  new  pit."  He  stopped 


312        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

and  his  listeners  sat  with  blanched  faces 
and  staring  looks. 

"Go  on!  What  then?"  prompted  Mr. 
Sumner. 

"I  drew  the  deputy  back  and  Mark  with 
him,  and,  in  less  time  than  you  can  imagine, 
I  told  them  that  Stefano  was  the  man  we 
had  been  looking  for,  and  not  John  Doe. 
I  unfolded  the  plan  of  Jack  and  Worry  as 
I  understood  it,  rapidly  as  I  could.  The 
deputy  was  now  much  frightened  and  trem 
bling  like  a  leaf,  but  Mark  showed  me  that 
he  was  game  to  the  last  degree,  as  events 
proved.  'Now  there  are  two  things  to 
do,'  I  said.  'One  of  us  must  stop  that  Italian, 
and  prevent  him  using  his  pick  and  also  put 
out  his  dangerous  lamp.  The  other  two 
must  overpower  these  two  men  at  once 
and  thus  give  no  chance  for  interference'." 

"I  glanced  at  Mark;  the  poor  fellow  caught 
my  meaning,  and  looking  at  his  empty  sleeve 
quickly  responded,  "You  two  must  seize  these 
men, — now!"  and  pointing  with  his  one  arm, 
darted  to  the  performance  of  his  chosen 
part, — to  stop  the  work  of  the  Italian.  As 
he  ran  past  Jack  and  Worry,  I  heard  their 
curses  upon  him,  but  prepared  and  as  quick 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        313 

as  a  deer  he  bounded  on,  with  the  two  men 
in  close  pursuit.  I  was  now  close  upon 
Mark's  pursuers,  and,  seizing  Watson,  I 
hurled  him  to  the  ground,  and  trusting 
the  deputy  to  take  this  man,  pressed  on  after 
Jack.  Worry  regained  his  feet — I  looked 
for  the  officer,  but  he  was  nowhere  to  be 
seen — ;  Jack  was  in  the  lead  and  Worry 
was  pressing  me  hard. — Pick,  pick! — the 
strokes  of  Giochio  struck  hard  into  the 
wall  before  him.  I  could  see  Mark  as  he 
arrested  the  third  blow;  but  the  fellow  turned 
upon  him  with  a  wild,  angry  look,  and  again 
the  pick  struck  the  wall  before  him;  the 
sound  was  dull  and  hollow;  I  heard  the 
crash  of  falling  coal  and  earth; — "  He 
stopped  speaking  and  looked  out  upon  the 
bright  sunlit,  snowy  landscape;  he  was  lost  in 
the  deep  reverie  of  things  he  could  wish  forgotten. 

"Go  on,  go  on!"  cried  both  listeners;  both 
bent  forward  eagerly,  with  bated  breath. 

A  shiver  passed  over  the  strong  form 
of  the  miner,  who  relaxed  no  line  of  the 
pained  look  upon  his  pallid  face. 

"The  explosion  followed."  He  looked  again 
far  into  the  scene  before  him.  "Mark  War- 
ing's  body  flew  past  me,  driven  by  the  force 


314        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

of  the  terrible  discharge,  and  Giochio  seemed 
literally  torn  limb  from  limb.  What  hap 
pened  to  Worry  and  Jack  I  did  not  see; — I 
was  lying  flat  upon  the  ground."  Again 
he  stopped  and  a  shudder  passed  over  him. 

"And?"  was  the  laconic  question  of  both 
Dr.  Acton  and  the  superintendent. 

"I  know  no  more,"  was  the  brief  answer. 

This  was  the  substance  of  the  ante-mortem 
statement,  which  Ralph  Sumner  had  learned 
from  Mark  and  which  he  had  promised 
to  relate  to  Dr.  Acton.  He  could  add  only 
some  brief  details  now,  as  the  fuller  account 
of  Luke  had  completely  overwhelmed  the 
short,  disjointed  story  of  the  dead  man. 
These  additional  details  he  gave  and  the 
narration  of  the  past  horrors  was  closed 
forever  between  them. 

"I  must  now  ask  you  to  excuse  me,  gentle 
men — friends;"  he  corrected  his  more  formal 
mode  of  address.  "For,  as  I  am  called  away 
to  be  present  with  our  Board  in  the  city, 
tomorrow,  I  must  attend  to  matters  of  a 
pressing  nature  here." 

"The  works  will  close  down  tomorrow, 
and  remain  closed  until  after  the  funeral 
of  Mr.  Crosby,"  he  added. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        315 

Both  Dr.  Acton  and  Luke  thought  this 
a  heavy  tribute  to  pay  from  slender  pockets 
of  the  Company's  employes;  and  it  was 
so  little  deserved.  But  they  knew  that 
Ralph  Sumner  was  in  no  way  responsible 
for  this  enforced  idleness. 

The  physician  insisted  upon  taking  his 
feeble  friend  back  in  his  carriage,  and  when 
he  drove  on  past  the  hospital,  Luke  remon 
strated. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  my  good  fellow. 
I  have  a  little  leisure,  and,  if  I  choose  to 
enjoy  it  with  a  friend,  what  matter."  He 
smiled  pleasantly. 

A  few  minutes  later  and  the  miner  guessed 
his  friend's  purpose,  for  he  drove  up  to  the 
gate  of  his  own  cheery  home,  now  made 
more  pleasant  by  the  presence  of  Clarissa 
and  Margery,  who  joined  his  mother  in 
bidding  her  boy  welcome  home. 

"Three  times  welcome  Luke,"  said  Crarissa 
taking  his  arm  to  assist  his  unsteady  feet 
up  the  low  steps.  She  waved  goodbye  to 
Herbert  Acton  as  he  regretfully  drove  away, 
and  sped  him  a  tender  look  of  thanks  in  re 
turn  for  one  of  affection. 

"Yes;  this  is  a  very  pleasant  surprise;  and 


316        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

I  shall  hate  to  see  you  ever  goring  away  again, 
Clarissa  dear."  She  started.  "But  that  will 
not  be  for  long  I  hope."  He  looked  now  into 
his  companion's  face,  and  his  hand  sought 
hers.  But  he  did  not  grasp  the  hand,  he 
hoped  to  find  willingly  reached  to  his  own, 
for  the  look  of  trouble  and  deep  distress 
disarmed  his  eager  impetuosity. 

"Do  not  speak  so, — Luke — Mr.  Darrell," 
she  said,  turning  her  face  to  hide  her  agitation. 
"Some  day  I  have  something  to  tell  you, 
and  I  hope  it  will  give  you  pleasure  to  know 
it."  She  bit  her  lips  to  keep  them  from  quiver 
ing,  and  tried  to  smile. 

He  took  it  for  a  .smile, — and  somehow 
a  promise;  he  looked  kindly  into  her  eyes 
with  a  reassured  manner.  "I  will  wait, 
my  dear." 

Clarissa  covered  her  face  and  went  to  an 
adjoining  room,  where  she  no  longer  tried 
to  keep  back  her  tears.  She  stood  beside 
the  little  window,  weeping  bitterly  and  try 
ing  to  look  through  her  tears  into  the  bright, 
white  scene  before  her.  Oh,  if  she  could 
only  spare  this  good  noble,  friend  the  pain 
he  must  feel  when  he  should  know  alii  Not 
that  she  no  longer  bore  the  name  of  the 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        317 

dead  man;  not  that  she  no  longer  belonged 
to  the  poor  settlement — that  could  make  no 
difference  with  her  treatment  of  him;  and 
she  judged  that  so  much  of  her  story  would 
bring  him  joy; — it  would  mean  her  happiness, 
and  she  knew  he  loved  her.  But  how  could 
she  wound  his  great,  gentle,  manly  heart 
with  the  truth  of  her  own  love  for  his  good, 
noble  friend?  She  knew  that  Luke  Darrell 
loved,  respected,  and  honored  Herbert  Acton; 
but  somehow  the  feeling  of  his  disappointed 
hopes,  like  the  ghost  in  Macbeth  would 
not  down,  and  she  wept,  saying  to  herself, 
"Poor  Luke,  poor  Luke,"  and  her  tears 
flowed  afresh. 

"Come;  sister,"  called  Margery,  taking 
her  arm.  She  called  her  sister  now,  for 
the  large-souled  Clarissa  had  heard  what 
Herbert  told  her  of  Mark's  dying  request, 
and  approved  her  lover's  plans.  "Why  do 
you  cry,  dear?"  noticing  her  friend's  tears. 
"Are  you  not  glad  Luke's  home?"  The 
brave  young  woman  wiped  her  eyes  and 
smiled  upon  her  companion. 

"Come  then;  let  us  make  it  pleasant  for 
him,  and  forget  our  losses."  Tears  closed 
her  further  utterances.  Clarissa  was  glad 


318        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

that  she  mistook  the  real  cause  of  her  grief. 
Together,  hand  in  hand,  they  returned  to 
the  sitting-room  where  the  young  man  and 
his  mother  sat  in  quiet,  homelike  communion. 

After  an  early  meal,  Clarissa  and  her 
young  charge  bade  their  humble  friends 
good-night  and  sought  their  own  little  cottage 
which  held  a  strange  contrast  now  with  its 
former  mean  and  squalid  appearance.  Her 
bert  Acton  had  not  been  forgetful,  nor  idle; 
so,  when  Clarissa  Chalmers  stoutly  refused 
to  go  to  her  new-found  friends,  as  he  had  at 
once  urged,  he  set  about  the  putting  of  the 
little  house  in  a  most  confortable  and  charm 
ing  dress,  both  within  and  without;  and 
many  willing,  hard-worn  hands  assisted  him. 
Thus  it  was  that  the  temporary  home  of  the 
brave  young  woman  of  Carbon  Vale  presented 
a  changed  appearance,  and  these  two  children 
found  themselves  in  the  midst  of  comforts 
heretofore  never  enjoyed. 

This  new  cause  of  emotion  brought  re 
lief  in  tears,  and  together  these  children 
of  poverty,  bereaved  and  lonely,  wept  their 
gratitude  and  joy  at  the  promised  release. 
Clarissa  explained  her  own  possible  change 
of  fortune,  and  told  the  trusting  child  of 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        319 

her  own  and  Herbert's  plans  for  the  orphan's 
future  happiness.  The  dreams  of  peace  that 
closed  their  burning  eye-lids  pressed,  too, 
their  tired  limbs  upon  couches  of  deep  and 
and  downy  comfort. 

Another  year  found  many  changes  in  and 
about  the  works  of  the  Mother  Lode  Mining 
Company. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

RUNNING  THE  GANTLET 

"Raving    politics,    never    at    rest — as    this    poor 

earth's  pale  history  runs — 
"What  is  it  all  but  a  trouble  of  ants  in  the  gleam 

of  a  million  million  of  suns?" 

Tennyson's  Fastness. 

A  few  weeks  after  the  incidents  recorded 
in  the  last  chapter,  Mr.  Ralph  Sumner, 
superintendent  at  Carbon  Vale,  was  called 
to  Philadelphia  where  he  was  installed  as 
acting  vice-president  and  general  manager 
of  the  Company.  The  cloak  of  his  former 
duties  fell  upon  the  shoulders  of  Luke  Darrell, 
who  the  former  incumbent  insisted  was  the 
truest,  bravest  and  most  competent  man 
in  the  Mother  Lode's  employ. 

The  induction  of  the  latter  into  his  new 
office  was  accomplished  without  jar  or  cere 
mony  on  the  part  of  the  management.  But 
the  many  warm  friends  and  admirers  of 
their  stalwart  champion,  among  the  miners, 
320 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        321 

accorded  Luke  a  hearty  ovation.  As  for 
himself  he  valued  the  new  position  on  account 
of  the  fresh  and  better  opportunities  for 
improving  the  condition  of  the  people 
about  him. 

When  the  news  of  his  good  fortune  reached 
the  hardy  workmen,  they  assembled  with 
one  accord  at  the  space  in  front  of  the  Superin 
tendent's  office,  with  shouts  of  approval 
and  rejoicing.  Responding  to  an  urgent 
demand  for  a  speech,  with  his  usual  calm, 
unimpassioned,  but  impressive  manner,  the 
new  Superintendent  and  old  friend  of  all, 
rose  before  the  assembled  multitude. 

"Friends,"  he  began;  but  cheer  on  cheer 
held  him  silent  for  some  time. 

"Friends  and  neighbors,"  he  began  a  second 
time,  and  a  gentle  murmur  of  applause 
punctuated  this  changed  address.  "I  have 
never  been  called  upon  to  speak  to  so  large 
a  crowd  of  my  fellows  and  well-wishers 
before,  and,  while  it  gives  me  great  pleasure 
to  speak  to  you,  I  hardly  know  what  to 
say."  A  voice  shouted,  "Say  yer  fer  the 
workin' — man."  "Yes;"  said  Luke,  after 
the  shouts  that  greeted  this  interruption 
had  died  away;  "I  am  for  the  workingman 


322        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

and  for  capital  too.  How  can  anyone  for  a 
moment  imagine,  that  these  two  great  arms 
of  industry  could  be  severed  from  the  body 
of  society  and  the  trunk  have  more  than 
a  living  death.  When  last  Christmas,  you, 
many  of  you,  paid  your  parting  tribute 
to  the  dead  that  lie  buried  on  yonder  hill-side," 
— he  pointed  to  the  distant  view, — "you 
little  supposed  that  great  and  beneficint 
changes  would  follow  the  woe  and  suffering 
you  then  felt;  you  little  imagined  that  a  great 
and  living  monument  to  the  innocent  slain 
would  rear  itself  on  the  spot  hallowed  by 
our  tears.  And  yet  it  is  true!  The  enemies 
of  labor,  alike  also  the  foes  of  capital  have 
felt  a  power  in  the  adversity  of  fortune. 
Circumstances  have  compelled  your  friends 
and  your  former  foes  to  become  allies  for 
the  bettering  of  your  condition."  Cries  of 
rejoicing  followed  this  period. 

"Now  you  enjoy  better  wages  as  an  en 
couragement  to  your  labors  in  your  own 
behalf  and  for  the  interests  of  capital.  *  When 
you  suffered,  the  Company  suffered  with  you! 
Today,  your  pay  is  better,  and  the  dividends 

*Coal  and  coke  have  shared  in  the  wonderful  industrial  devel 
opment  of  the  year,  with  a  rise  equal  to  that  in  textiles  and  build 
ing  materials. — R.  G.  Dunn  &  Co. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        323 

to  stockholders  have  not  been  greatly  reduced. 
You  must  give  the  best  of  your  strength 
and  your  labor,  and  I  assure  you  prosperity  will 
return  to  the  Company,  and  fortune  shall 
also  favor  you."  (Applause.). 

"When  I  was  contending  against  a  strike 
last  November,  some  of  my  opponents  charged 
me  with  defending  'Satan',  and  I  tell  you 
now,  as  I  told  the'm  then,  that  my  plan 
meant  the  peaceable  adjustment  of  all  dif 
ferences  between  you  and  the  Mother  Lode. 
Now,  I  assure  you,  that  my  work,  in  that 
behalf,  so  suddenly  and  so  sadly  interrupted, 
must  continue,  until  capital  shall  join  labor 
in  uplifting  the  stronger  and  equally  worthy 
part  of  itself.  Men,  the  good  work  must 
go  on!" 

His  great,  strong  hand  was  seized  and 
wrung  in  genuine  and  heart-felt  encourage 
ment  by  the  rough,  coal-begrimed  miners; 
and,  with  shouts  of,  "Hurrah,  for  Luke 
Darrell!  Hurrah,  for  the  new  superinten 
dent  and  workingman's  friend!"  the  crowds 
dispersed,  waving  their  caps  and  dinner- 
pails  in  the  sincerity  of  their  glee. 

Time    had    wrought    other    changes    too. 

Clarissa    Chalmers    was    restored    to    her 


324        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

friends,  and,  with  Margery  as  constant 
companion,  had  taken  up  her  home  with 
relatives  in  New  York  City.  Herbert  Acton, 
after  some  hard  persuading,  had  induced 
the  young  woman  to  accept  the  advantages 
both  for  herself  and  Margery,  that  such 
a  change  could  effect.  He  had  undertaken 
the  delicate  mission  of  acquainting  the  Chal 
mers  family  with  the  facts  that  returned 
to  them  their  long-lost  relative; — other 
proofs  of  Warton's  story  had  been  found 
among  the  effects  of  the  dead  miner. 

In  her  new  home  Clarissa  was  now  pur 
suing  the  double  occupation  of  student 
and  teacher,  receiving  much  needed  lessons 
from  private  tutors  and  imparting  instruction 
to  Margery  in  turn.  Her  progress  was  rapid, 
and  when  Herbert  Acton  on  a  short  visit, 
a  few  weeks  after  the  installment  in  her  new 
home,  noticed  these  changes,  he  half  re 
gretted  them.  The  plain,  coarsely  clad,  but 
beautiful  Clarissa  of  the  last  winter  had 
been  transformed  into  the  exquisite  and 
charming  exotic  of  the  blossoming  spring. 

"I  am  going  to  the  settlement — to  Carbon 
Vale — when  the  spring  flowers  come,  Herbert,'* 
she  said  smiling  sadly. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        325 

"We  should  be  glad  to  see  you  there, 
darling.  But  why  do  you  wish  to  come 
now,  Clarissa?  Are  you  not  much  happier 
here?"  Dr.  Acton  was  puzzled. 

"Yes;  I  am  happy  here;  and  I  should  be 
mournfully  happy  there,  too;  that  kind  of 
happiness  seems  so  much  more  natural  to 
me,  Herbert; — so  much  sweeter!"  She  placed 
her  folded  hands  upon  his  strong  shoulder, 
and  looked  up  into  his  face. 

"Then  come,  my  dear!  Come,  if  anything 
can  add  to  your  enjoyment  or  happiness; 
for  you  have  earned  the  choicest  blessings 
this  sad,  sad  world  can  hold."  He  kissed 
her  now, — her  soft  white  hands — and  then 
her  sweet,  ruby  lips. 

"There,  there,  Herbert!  You  must  not — 
now!  Some  other  time."  He  started  in 
sudden  awe  of  his  own  thoughts, — or  of  the 
familiar  sounding  words!  He  had  heard 
those  words  pronounced  by  those  same 
lips  before,  but  then  it  seemed  like  a  prom 
ise  that  had  been  only  half  realized.  Now 
he  thought  they  meant  his  doom;  had 
her  heart  changed,  too — with  her  fortune? 

He  would  disregard  his  fears,  he  would  be 
unchanged  to  her:  "Oh,  Clarissa,  are  you 


326        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

not  won  yet?  Do  you  still  withhold  from 
me  the  happy  moment  of  your  reply?  You 
have  never  told  me  with  your  dear,  sweet 
lips,  'Herbert,  I  love — '  ."  Again  he  started 
at  his  own  recollection  of  the  fearful,  deaf 
ening  roar  that  had  cut  off  her  words  at 
that  very  place. 

"What  would  you  have  me  say,  Dr.  Acton? — 
no  Herbert, — I  am  always  to  call  you  Her 
bert, — dear  Herbert." 

"Say  these  words,  Clarissa;  pronounce 
them  after  me; — say,  'Herbert,  I  love  you'." 
He  took  the  hands  she  would  not  withhold 
from  him. 

"When  I  come  to  Carbon  Vale,  Herbert, 
I  will — will  answer  you; — if  you  choose 
to  ask  me."  And  she  directed  the  conver 
sation  into  other  and  less  dangerous  channels. 

The  labors  of  Dr.  Herbert  Acton,  Phy 
sician  and  Surgeon  for  the  Mother  Lode 
Company  continued  at  the  little  Pennsyl 
vania  settlement,  in  accordance  with  his 
contract  with  that  corporation;  his  year 
would  not  expire  till  July.  Then  he  would 
resign  and  take  up  the  practice  of  his  loved 
profession  at  Reading;  there  he  would  make 
his  home  with  Clarissa  and  his  legal  ward 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        327 

Margery  Waring.  His  plans  were  well  de 
termined — Clarissa  Chalmers  would  be  his 
wife,  then,  he  hoped;  and  there  he  could 
be  within  call  of  Luke  Darrell,  the  master 
of  workmen,  and  the  champion  of  a  great 
cause.  He  loved  the  noble  fellow;  yes, 
dearer  than  a  brother;  and  his  own  heart  was 
in  the  cause  of  humanity,  which  his  sturdy 
friend  had  so  earnestly  espoused  and  was  so 
devotedly  advancing.  He  believed  that  the 
work  to  which  Luke  and  Ralph  Sumner 
and  himself  had  with  clasped  hands  conse 
crated  their  "lives,  their  fortunes,  and  their 
sacred  honors,"  was  even  above  riches,  or 
fame,  or  success  in  his  chosen  profession, 
the  greatest  to  which  he  could  dedicate 
his  ever-increasing  influence  and  power  of 
manhood. 

The  spring  came,  redolent  with  the  per 
fume  of  tiny  blossoms  that  decked  the  hills 
and  festooned  the  orchards;  spring  with  its 
balmy,  soft,  southern  breezes.  A  carpet 
of  green  spread  like  a  grateful  drapery  over 
hill  and  farm;  the  music  of  birds,  returning 
from  a  long  exile  with  the  northward  moving 
verdure,  made  vocal  the  echoes  of  the  vale 
where  nestled  the  humble  huts  of  coal  miners. 


328        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

Everywhere  there  was  abounding  vitality, 
where  lately  had  been  the  sleep  of  entrancing 
nature.  To  him  whose  life  has  been  spent 
in  the  tropical  or  semi-tropical  regions  of 
the  globe,  the  lovely,  heart-invigorating  re 
vival  of  animal  and  vegetable  growth,  which 
springtime  brings  in  this  part  of  the  world, 
has  never  carried  the  glad  awakening  of  in 
nate  powers  of  heart  and  mind,  so  surely 
felt  here. 

The  two  staunch  friends  and  allies  in 
the  service  of  man,  walked  slowly  through 
the  sweet,  odor-laden  atmosphere  toward 
the  unpretentious  home  of  Superintendent 
Darrell.  If  the  heart  could  want  for  more 
to  cheer  it  than  the  sincere  companionship 
of  these  two,  it  was  to  be  found  in  the  happy 
prospect  before  them.  Hill  and  vale,  stretch 
ing  meadow  and  leafy  wood,  touched  by 
the  roseate  flood  of  evening  sunshine,  lay 
all  about  them.  Other  phases  of  nature  around 
them  seemed  to  say, — "We  have  shaken  off 
the  snowy  mantle  of  death  and  have  stepped 
forth  into  a  bright  prospect  of  life."  They 
chatted  in  happy  review  of  the  changes 
that  had  been  wrought  in  the  homes  and 
lives  of  the  village;  they  talked  seriously 


of  the  future  plans  for  the  further  uplifting 
of  its  humble  dwellers. 

Since  becoming  the  manager  of  local  affairs 
at  the  works,  many  changes  had  been  made 
by  Supt.  Darrell,  not  only  in  the  respects 
of  better  buildings  and  appliances  for  the 
Company  but  also  more  comforts  for  the 
men  and  their  families.  Luke  had  set  the 
lesson  of  his  own  good  example.  Some 
changes  he  had  made  in  the  house  and  its 
surroundings,  that  he  still  called  home, 
and  many  comforts  had  been  added  within;  but 
the  good  man  still  clung  to  the  humble  place; 
the  thought  pleased  him  and  he  liked  it; 
besides,  he  felt  that  it  won  on  the  hearts 
of  his  neighbors  and  friends,  that  sudden 
prosperity  had  neither  turned  his  head  nor 
changed  his  heart. 

"I  have  a  little  surprise  for  you,  Doctor," 
said  Luke,  crushing  a  telegram  in  his  hand. 

"Ah,  you  are  always  treating  me  to  mysteries 
my  friend;  it's  getting  to  be  a  veritable  round 
of  surprises.  May  I  hear  what  it  is?"  asked 
Dr.  Acton. 

"You  may  see,  sir," — holding  the  des 
patch  tantilizingly  before  him,  and  then 
withdrawing  it  quickly!  ''Not  so  fast,  my 


330        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

good  fellow."  He  politely  preceded  his  guest, 
opening  the  door  wide — quite  wide  too. 
"There!  See  for  yourself,  Doctor." 

Clarissa  sprang  to  meet  them,  and  soon 
Margery  and  Mrs.  Darrell  joined  in  the 
joyous  welcome.  Herbert  Acton  did  not 
restrain  his  eager,  o'er-mastering  love,  but 
clasping  the  sweet,  regal  form  in  his  arms 
printing  kisses  upon  her  cheeks  and  lips. 
"My  darling!  God  bless  you,  Clarissa,  my 
love! — God  bless  you  all!"  and  he  turned 
in  triumphant  manner  toward  the  astonished 
group  of  on-lookers. 

Luke  stood  a  moment,  moved  by  thoughts 
and  emotions  'he  could  not  control.  He 
stared  in  silent,  dumb  amazement,  while  Mar 
gery  clapped  her  hands  in  glee,  and  Mrs. 
Darrell  stood  in  blank  surprise,  her  hands 
raised  to  show  it. 

"Well,  now!  I  declare!  Who'd  a  thought 
it!"  her  hands  dropped  to  her  side  by  way 
of  resignation  and  relief. 

Luke  turned  his  head  aside  for  a  moment 
to  hide  the  look  of  disappointment  he  knew 
was  there, — bu*t  only  for  a  moment,  for 
almost  immediately  he  straightened  his  tall 
commanding  form,  and,  approaching  the  pair 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        331 

who  stood  hand  in  hand,  with  confused 
looks  and  downcast  eyes,  he  held  out  a  hand 
to  each. 

"God  bless  you,  my  children — and  my 
poor  selfish  blessing  go  with  you!"  A  struggle 
for  the  mastery  of  himself  shook  his  frame; 
he  took  the  hands  that  had  fallen  apart, 
held  them  a  moment  in  his  trembling  grasp; 
then  he  joined  them  together  again,  and 
silently  turned  away  to  hide  his  deep,  bitter 
disappointment  and  surprise. 


When  the  autumn  came  and  a  great  cam 
paign  was  on  for  the  election  of  represent 
ative  to  the  Pennsylvania  legislature,  Luke 
Darrell  was  selected  to  make  the  race  for 
that  office  in  his  county.  The  day  of  election 
was  fast  approaching.  Among  the  champions 
of  the  man  from  Carbon  Vale  were  the  vice- 
president  of  the  Mother  Lode  Mining  Com 
pany  and  a  rising  young  physician  of  Read 
ing.  These  three,  for  Luke  was  equally 
active  in  his  own  behalf,  formed  the  "Re 
form  Triumvirate"  of  a  new  movement. 
A  new  political  party,  built  on  the  foundation 
of  higher  socialistic  principles,  had  named 


332        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

the  strong  man  from  its  most  energetic  and 
able  workers. 

Somehow  the  news  that  Darrell  was  an 
employe  of  a  great  coal-mining  corporation, 
and  that  his  backers  were  men,  either  directly 
or  indirectly  interested  in  the  Company's 
success,  gave  him  a  strong  opposition  from 
the  old  parties.  Their  speakers  and  the 
servile  party  press  held  his  business  connection 
and  advocacy  of  seeming  antagonistic  prin 
ciples  up  to  ridicule.  But  in  his  own  im 
mediate  vicinity,  where  the  character  of 
the  man  was  understood,  there  was  little 
or  no  opposition  and  Democrats  and  Re 
publicans  alike  flocked  to  the  standard 
of  the  new  leader. 

Strenuously  the  aids  of  the  movement 
fought  the  battle  upon  the  platform,  in 
the  fields  of  politics,  and  at  the  polls.  When 
the  returns  were  in  Luke  Darrell  was  elected 
by  a  clean  majority. 

And  now  the  newspapers  that  had  so 
bitterly  opposed  him  took  up  the  canting 
wail:— "ANOTHER  BLOW  TO  CAPITAL— 
Labor  scores  a  Victory — The  Workingman 
to  the  Fore:"  And  then  followed  a  diatribe 
of  scorn  and  belittling  character: — 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        333 

"The  great  Mother  Lode  Mining  Company 
puts  its  man  in  the  Legislature.  Luke 
Darrell,  superintendent  of  a  mining  cor 
poration  at  Carbon  Vale,  will  represent 
his  Company's  interests  in  the  next  Assembly. 
He  successfully  passed  as  the  champion 
of  labor,  and  now  goes  to  Harrisburg  to 
look  out  for  the  welfare  of  his  opulent 
backers.  Perhaps  never  before  in  the  history 
of  our  great  state — the  legacy  of  William 
Penn  and  the  commonwealth  of  Benjamin 
Franklin, — has  so  great  a  deception  been 
practised  upon  a  helpless  and  confiding  com 
munity.  Labor  will  see  its  error  when  or 
ganized  capital  through  its  suborned  and 
carping  representative,  succeeds  in  grind 
ing  its  heel  upon  their  servile  necks,  in  the 
coming  legislative  enactments." 

With  smiles  of  contempt  for  such  examples 
of  political  bias  and  ignorant  prejudice; — to 
say  nothing  of  the  want  of  honest  intention 
and  fair  judgment  in  matters  of  public  wel 
fare; — the  man  of  strong  and  holy  purpose 
cast  all  such  stuff  from  him,  and  taking 
a  firmer  hold  of  the  plow-handles  resolved 
that  nothing  should  swerve  him  from  his 
duty. 


334        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

He  had  little  time  for  the  congratulations 
of  those  who  sought  favor  in  the  Legislature 
or  the  spoils  of  office,  and  no  time  for  the 
prying  busy-bodies  and  reporters  who  sought 
by  interviews  to  bring  him  into  compromising 
positions  or  expression  which  in  turn  they 
they  should  use  for  their  own  selfish  ends. 
Likewise  the  lobbyists  of  the  coal  interests, 
of  the  iron  interests,  of  the  railroads,  the 
canals  and  the  what-not's  gained  little  com 
fort  from  him.  He  simply  turned  them 
over  to  their  own  fertile  imaginations,  and 
disregarded  the  screeds  of  the  journals  (?) 
that  severally  advocated  their  views  and 
reforms. 

In  making  up  the  legislative  committees, 
therefore,  the  man  from  Carbon  Vale  was 
put  upon  the  obscure  and  usually  perfunc 
tory  one  of  reformatories  and  eleemosynary 
institutions;  but  he  was  to  make  his  power 
and  penetration  felt  in  a  degree  and  after 
a  manner  his  adversaries  little  anticipated. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE   ARCH-ENEMY   DETHRONED 

"As  some  tall  cliff  that  lifts  its  awful  form, 

"Swells  from  the  vale,  and  midway  leaves  the  storm, 

"Though  round  its  breast  the  rolling  clouds  are 

spread, 
"Eternal  sunshine  settles  on  his  head." 

Goldsmith's    The  Deserted   Village. 

On  a  bright  winter  day  that  made  the 
blood  course  through  the  veins  and  gave 
life  and  vigor  to  those  who  felt  its  exhilara 
ting  effects,  a  sleigh  drove  cheerily,  with 
jingling  bells,  through  the  streets  of  Harris- 
burg.  It  stopped  at  the  Capitol  building, 
where  the  legislature  sat  in  session.  Out 
of  it  stepped  four  persons  we  have  met  be 
fore. 

"Now,  Mr.  Sumner,  I  will  trust  Clarissa 
to  you.  Please  find  seats  in  the  gallery, 
where  we  can  join  you.  I  will  bring  Margery, 
in  a  few  minutes."  The  speaker  handed 
his  companion  on  the  drive  to  the  manager 
of  the  great  Company. 
335 


336        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

As  these  two  took  their  way  up  the  broad, 
stone  steps,  Dr.  Acton  and  Margery  Waring 
turned  aside  and  soon  entered  the  shop  of 
a  florist  where  tasteful  displays  of  bright  and 
variegated  colors  in  nature's  own  handi 
work  were  seen  in  great  profusion.  A  little 
later  the  gentleman  and  his  companion  emerged, 
bearing  a  large  bouquet  of  choicest  flowers. 

"Oh,  Herbert!  What  lovely,  what  lovely 
beauties!"  She  held  out  her  hands  in  admir 
ation  as  if  to  receive  them.  "What  are  these 
for?"  she  asked,  unable  to  fathom  her  es 
cort's  purpose  in  buying  such  exquisite 
floral  beauties. 

"Our  dear  friend, — humanity's  friend! 
That's  better  for  it  includes  us  all,  Margie. 
Luke  is  to  speak  today  in  behalf  of  his  great 
bill.  You  have  heard  us  talking  about 
what  he  is  doing  for  the  poor  and  rich  alike?" 
His  words  took  the  form  of  a  question. 

"Yes,  brother  dear;  but  what  have  these 
pretty  flowers  to  do  with  it?" 

"I  want  these  placed  upon  his  desk  the 
moment  he  rises  to  address  the  Assembly;  and 
this  little  message  will  go  with  it."  He 
held  up  a  card  on  which  was  written  sim 
ply  the  names  Clarissa,  Margery,  Ralph, 


Herbert,  and  the  brief  line  below,  "Mother 
sends,  "God  bless  you,  my  son."  She  clasped 
her  hands  in  ecstasy. 

"Oh,  how  beautiful!  How  like  your  dear, 
noble  self,  Herbert."  She  called  him  Her 
bert,  or  brother,  now. 

Dr.  Acton  left  the  bouquet  in  charge  of 
an  attendant,  giving  him  minute  instructions 
as  to  the  place  and  time  for  the  presentation. 
He  slipped  a  coin  into  the  man's  hand. 

"There,  I  think  that  is  the  first  time  I 
ever  bribed  a  member  of  this  house."  He 
chuckled  in  an  amused  manner.  "And  I 
will  say  that  it  shall  be  the  last  time,  too." 

They  found  seats  reserved  by  the  friends 
who  had  preceded  them, — seats  command 
ing  a  good  view  of  the  house  and  facing  the 
desk  of  the  member  from  Carbon  Vale. 
Luke  was  already  at  his  desk,  with  head 
bent  low  over  a  pile  of  manuscripts  and 
documents;  this  prevented  his  seeing  his 
friends  in  the  gallery  before  him. 

The  House  was  going  through  with  its 
usual,  large  budget  of  routine  business  to 
which  our  hero  gave  a  running,  but  interested 
attention,  while  he  plied  his  labors  at  his 
desk. 


338        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

"The  special  order  of  business  for  this 
hour,"  said  the  Chairman,  glancing  at  the 
clock  and  then  at  a  paper  handed  to  him 
by  the  Clerk  of  the  House, — "is  the  debate 
on  House  Bill,  Number  one-thirty-nine." 

"If  there  is  luck  in  odd  numbers,  our  friend 
wins,"  jocularly  observed  Mr.  Sumner  to  his 
eager  listening  companions. 

"There  is  Luke  on  the  floor,  and  that 
is  better  than  odd  numbers,"  smilingly  re 
turned  Dr.  Acton.  They  all  laughed  and 
felt  some  releif  from  their  former  nervous 
anxiety. 

The  Clerk  was  now  ordered  to  read  the 
Bill  designated,  No.  139,  and  he  began: — 

"Be  it  enacted  by  the  Legislature  of  the 
State  of  Pennsylvania  in  House  and  Senate 
assembled,  and  it  is  hereby  enacted:—" 
Then  followed  the  reading  of  the  bill,  para 
graph  by  paragraph,  line  by  line. 

At  its  close,  but  before  the  Speaker  could 
declare  the  matter  open  for  debate,  the  eyes 
of  all,  on  the  floor  and  in  the  gallery,  were 
turned,  toward  its  author's  seat,  for  the 
attendant  was  placing  a  large  floral  tribute 
upon  his  desk.  There  followed  a  hearty 
clapping  of  hands,  while  Luke  glanced  at 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        339 

the  beautiful  offering; — then  his  eyes  scanned 
the  card  a  moment.  He  cast  a  swift,  search 
ing  look  into  the  gallery  and  caught  sight 
of  four  fluttering  handkerchiefs.  He  arose 
in  his  place  and  bowed  his  thanks  to  the 
friends  above  him,  then  his  acknowledge 
ments  for  the  hearty,  gentlemanly  applause 
from  the  body  of  Representatives  on  the 
floor. 

"The  mover  of  this  Bill — Number  one- 
thirty-nine,  now  has  the  privilege  of  open 
ing  the  debate."  The  voice  of  the  Speaker 
was  the  signal  for  attention  that  brought 
a  deep  hush  upon  all.  The  Clerk  passed 
the  name  of  the  mover  to  the  Chairman. 
The  gentleman  from  Carbon  Vale  arose 
from  his  seat  and  addressed  the  Speaker; 
he  was  recognized  by  the  occupant  of  the 
chair. 

Straightening  his  form  to  its  full,  com 
manding  height  and  squaring  his  broad 
shoulders,  Luke  Darrell  sent  a  look  about 
the  assembled  representatives  and  then  at 
the  crowded  gallery;  as  his  eyes  returned 
to  the  face  of  the  Speaker,  his  voice,  full, 
calm  and  sonorous,  broke  on  the  ears  of 
the  listening  multitude. 


"Mr.  Speaker  and  Members  of  this  House: 
"It  is  with  some  trepidation  that  I  enter 
upon  the  momentous  task,  which,  as  mover 
of  this  bill,  number  one-thirty-nine,  falls 
to  me,  so  little  used  to  addressing  so  im 
portant,  so  powerful  a  body,  for  good  or 
ill,  as  the  Assembly  of  the  great  State  of 
Pennsylvania. 

"In  order  that  I  may  come  properly 
at  the  inherent  purpose  and  true  tenor  of 
this  bill,  number  one-thirty-nine,  permit 
me  to  ask,  and  if  possible  to  answer  the 
question,  What  constitutes  a  great  State? 
Is  it  riches?  Is  it  power?  Is  it  tradition? 
Is  it  miles  of  railroads  and  canals?  Hum 
ming  factories  and  productive  farms,  or  far- 
reaching  internal  and  external  commerce? 
Can  it  be  large  and  magnificent  schools? 
and  colossal  libraries?  Are  fine  public  build 
ings  and  imposing  monuments  to  dead, 
but  immortalized  heroes'  greatness  in  the 
true  sense?  If  you  wish  to  bequeath  to 
posterity  the  best  thing  that  shall  make 
us  truly  great  and  stamp  our  age  as  one  of 
wholesome  and  beneficent  gifts,  would  it 
be  any  of  these  or  all  of  them?  I  answer, 
No!  If  these  be  our  boast  and  we  have 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        341 

not  a  contented  and  prosperous  yeomanry; 
if  gaunt  poverty  and  stealthy  crime  beget 
their  breed  of  misery  and  suffering;  if  slavery 
abounds  and  oppression  exults;  if  cowardly 
power  grinds  upon  cringing  dependency,  and 
yet  every  material  and  intellectual  bless 
ing  which  the  Ruler  of  all  can  bestow  be  ours, 
then  I  answer,  our  State  is  neither  great 
nor  holy,  nor  just — nor  human  in  the  like 
ness  of  our  Creator.  *  (Applause.) 

"I  am  here,  Mr.  Speaker,  and  Gentlemen, 
to  confess  that  I  am  a  man  of  humble — but, 
I  believe,  of  just  and  honest  ancestry;  I 
confess,  that  up  to  a  short  time  ago,  I  was 
but  the  very  humblest  toiler  in  the  very 
humblest  occupation — a  coal-miner  in  the 
deep,  rich  and  valuable  mines  of  this  great 
State.  (Applause.)  Today,  I  am  the  super 
intendent  of  the  Company's  works  where, 
from  my  earliest  boyhood,  I  earned  the 
rude  shelter  and  bare  crusts  of  a  toilsome 
existence.  Perhaps  my  rise  in  this  Company's 
service  was  due  to  merit; — I  hope  it  was; — but 
I  do  know  that  it  came  largely  from  cir- 

*The  freest  government  cannot  long  endure,  where  the  tendency 
of  the  law  is  to  create  a  rapid  accumulation  of  property  in  the 
hands  of  the  few,  and  to  render  the  masses  of  the  people  poor 
and  dependent. — Daniel  Webster. 


342        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

cumstances,  and  from  those  friends," — his 
voice  thrilled  with  pathos  and  he  glanced 
straight  into  the  faces  in  the  gallery  which 
eagerly  watched  him — "friends  who  found 
in  me  a  champion  alike  of  down-trodden  labor 
and  selfish,  suicidal  capital.  How  much 
of  worth,  as  a  manager  of  that  Company's 
business,  they  have  found  in  me,  I  do  not 
know.  But  I  do  know,  Sirs,  that  out  of 
discontent  has  grown  contentment;  out  of 
discord,  harmony;  out  of  shrinking  income 
and  lowering  wages  have  come  larger 
dividends,  improved  plants,  wholesome  san 
itation,  higher  wages,  and  regular  dividends 
to  labor.  *  (Applause.) 

"But  this  is  not  my  work — altogether; 
had  I  stood  alone,  none  of  these  things  would 
be;  and,  if  not  these  improved  conditions, 
then  the  old,  miserable,  woe-begetting  system 
would  still  flourish — no,  not  flourish,  but 
rot,  rot,  rot! 

*The  industries  are  closing  the  most  extraordinary  year  of 
their  history.  Long  established  branches  have  undergone  a  veri 
table  reconstruction,  vastly  increasing  their  capacity,  while  new 
industries  have  enlisted  a  vast  capital,  altered  the  mode  of  busi 
ness  in  almost  every  direction,  and  the  improved  conditions  for 
the  future  are  almost  beyond  calculation. — R.  G.  Dunn  &  Co. 

In  industrial  affairs  the  year  has  been  one  of  enormous  expan 
sion.  Certainly  nothing  like  the  general  advance  in  wages  of  in 
dustrial  employees  has  been  witnessed  for  many  years  and  this 
has  been  accomplished  with  a  minimum  of  friction. — Bradstreets's 
Reports. 


"Therefore,  I  call  you  not  to  witness  of 
my  deeds,  good  or  bad  but  of  the  whole 
change  wrought  by  men  of  just  and  God- 
given  hearts;  of  minds  capable  of  seeing  and 
knowing,  as  are  your  minds,  Mr.  Speaker 
and  Gentlemen, — as  are  the  minds  and 
hearts  of  all  within  hearing  of  my  voice, 
yea,  and  even  beyond  and  up  to  the  throne 
of  the  Eternal  Judge  and  Lawgiver.  These 
minds  have  grasped  a  new  meaning  in  the 
terms  capital  and  labor,  in  employer  and 
employe,  of  master  and  servant.  All  in 
and  about  and  within  the  influence  of  the 
Mother  Lode  Brotherhood — you  see  we  have 
dropped  the  old  name,  Company;  we  rechrist- 
ened  our  compact  on  Christmas  day — all,  I  say, 
that  come  under  our  influence  know  what 
mainspring  actuates  our  corporate  existence 
and  begin  to  see  the  fruits  of  our  system. 

"Now,  Sirs,  in  urging  the  adoption  of 
the  measure  which  this  Bill,  number  one- 
thirty-nine,  provides,  I  am  asking  you 
to  make  profit-sharing  easy  and  oppressive 
measures  hard;  I  am  asking  you  to  change, 
upon  the  Statutes  of  this  great  Common 
wealth  of  Pennsylvania,  laws  that  have 
their  foundation  in  the  preposterous  maxim 


344        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

that  'Might  makes  right'  to  those  that  rec 
ognize  only  that  'Justice  alone  is  right'. 
I  ask  you  to  take  out  of  the  selfish,  irrespon 
sible  hands  of  organized  capital  the  power, 
nay,  the  incentive  (in  its  own  interest  it 
believes,  but  is  mistaken)  to  pay  a  grudging 
alms  to  labor  and  call  it,  'wages'.  I  shall 
hail  the  day,  when  the  archeologist  must 
search  the  musty  tomes  -of  history  to  find 
the  hateful  word,  'wages'  and  wonder  what 
could  be  its  meaning;  and  I  hope  to  see  the 
day  when,  instead  of  asking,  what  are  your 
wages?  we  shall  say,  what  is  your  worth?" 

He  touched  upon  the  Bill,  item  by  item, 
paragraph  by  paragraph.  All  gave  him  at 
tention  and  the  encouragement  of  sym 
pathetic  faces.  At  the  close  he  lifted  up 
his  voice  in  one  last  appeal. 

"The  result  of  measures  such  as  this  Bill 
contains,  My  honored  Sirs,  will  be  the  ceas 
ing  to  make  the  rich  richer  and  the  poor 
poorer,  but  will  make  the  poor  rich  and  rich 
richer  and  all  more  contented,  more  pros 
perous,  more  happy!  Then  these  penal  and 
eleemosynary  institutions, — which  come  under 
the  care  of  the  committee  to  which  your 
honored  Speaker  has  seen  fit  to  appoint  me, — 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        345 

will  rank  beside  your  schools,  your  libraries, 
and  your  holy  churches.  Alms  grudgingly 
cast  to  the  undeserving  poor  but  beggars 
him  who  gives  and  him  who  receives.  The 
poor  must  claim  their  own  by  right,  by  the 
holy  law  of  justice;  and  proud  capital  must 
learn  to  recognize  in  labor  its  true  and  worthy 
handmaid — labor  that  digs  the  treasures 
from  the  earth,  which  enrich  both. 

"When  our  great  industrial  system,  Sirs, 
is  reorganized  upon  lines  which  this  Bill 
provides  and  my  remarks  have  indicated, 
then  the  millennium  of  peace  and  good-will, 
of  even  and  increasing  prosperity  will  take 
from  gaunt  famine  the  hollow  eyes,  and 
from  suffering,  trembling  labor  the  heavy 
shackles  which  bind  it!" 

Amid  prolonged  applause  his  speech  merited, 
he  took  his  seat.  Later,  casting  a  glance 
upward  to  the  place  where  his  friends  sat, 
he  saw  that  they  had  gone.  He  hastily 
withdrew  to  the  lobby.  Here  heartfelt 
congratulations  were  showered  upon  him,  and 
the  cheering  words  of  his  friends  told  of  the 
success  they  surely  expected. 

"My  dear,  old  friend,  let  me  introduce 
to  you  another,  who  wishes  you  every  success 


346        THE  SILENT  CONFLICT 

and  God  speed. — Luke,  this  is  Mrs.  Acton." — 
presenting  Clarissa.  Congratulations  for  the 
happy  couple  were  now  in  order — and  were 
both  given  and  received. 


But  we  must  part; — the  dearest  friends 
must  sometime  part. 

The  home  of  Dr.  Herbert  Acton  in  Read 
ing  is  the  Mecca  of  Luke  Darrell  and  Ralph 
Sumner  on  many  a  pleasant  occasion.  Mr. 
Sumner  goes  because  he  enjoys  the  genial 
flow  of  friendship; — and  so  does  Luke,  but 
of  late  years,  his  visits  are  more  frequent 
and  protracted;  he  really  did  love  the  happy 
doctor's  wife — long  ago — and  found  in  her 
such  charms  of  mind  and  person  as  he  never 
hoped  to  match  then. 

He  finds  that  now  another  budding  woman 
hood  stands  on  the  threshold  of  life, — she 
has  learned  many  a  charm  from  the  brave 
girl  of  Carbon  Vale;  nay,  she  too  is  brave, 
and  was  once  of  Carbon  Vale!  Margery 
Waring  has  indeed  grown  charmingly  beauti 
ful  and  an  interesting  companion  for  Luke's 
leisure  hours,  when  he  comes  to  visit  old 
friends. 


THE  SILENT  CONFLICT        347 

It  was  on  one  such  visit  that  he  drew 
the  pretty,  faltering  girl  from  the  seat  at 
the  window  where  they  had  been  chatting 
cosily  together,  and  taking  her  hand  led 
her  into  the  presence  of  Herbert  and  Clarissa 
Acton. 

"I  came  to  introduce  Mrs.  Darrell,  that 
is  to  be."  He  spoke  tenderly; — both  looked 
happy. 

"God  bless  you,  my  children, — and  if 
our  blessing  can  be  as  purely  unselfish  as 
yours  has  been,  Luke,  our  blessings  go  with 
you,"  and  Herbert,  in  imitation  of  that  other 
time,  joined  their  trembling  hands  together. 

"La  sakes!  Luke!"  exclaimed  the  aged 
mother.  "Will  wonders  never  cease  where 
you  are?"  Her  hands  rested  in  blessing 
upon  her  children's  heads. 


THE   END 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

rhis  h  -n  the  'ast  date  stamped  below. 


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